


mayfly (there is something in me that cannot close up, in that looking)

by RyeFo



Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Ash's past comes up and it is going to hurt, F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Photographer Okumura Eiji, Single Father Ash Lynx, Single Parents, Trans Male Character, Warning: The later chapters WILL get very dark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:34:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 89,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22328659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RyeFo/pseuds/RyeFo
Summary: At 17, Ash became a father. At 23, Copper Garcia is dead, leaving him the lone parent after years of little contact with his daughter. Forced to go into hiding whilst raising his kid alone, Ash meets local photographer Eiji Okumura and slowly carves out the family experience that his own childhood lacked.(Or, the single dad au that we all need.)
Relationships: Ash Lynx & Okumura Eiji's Sister, Ash Lynx & Shorter Wong, Ash Lynx/Okumura Eiji, Okumura Eiji & Okumura Eiji's Sister, Okumura Eiji's Sister/Shorter Wong
Comments: 192
Kudos: 298





	1. watching for comets

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from David Foster Walllace's story, "Everything is Green".

Appearances can be deceiving.

Everywhere has already looked like it's been licked clean of life, blood trails smearing the ground, empty shells crack underneath his feet--but it's not two seconds before there's a crack in his helmet from a bullet clipping him. His own gun fires back, and the house falls silent. Ash’s helmet falls to the ground and shatters on impact, a crack like a bullet hole in the middle of where his eyes should have been.

It was a cheap helmet anyway. Dread settles in the bottom of his stomach, twisting around inside of him like a stone caught in a hurricane.

The shells continue to crack underneath his feet as he moves in slowly. Small fires remain, burning up shrubbery on the concrete ground. He did always complain about the lack of maintenance here, but she never listens.

Several bodies line the inside of the house as he creaks the door open. None of them move. Blood leaks out of their eyes, and Ash’s gun remains at his side. Ash breathes in ash. He exhales trepidation.

It’s too quiet in here. He’s used to the sound of crappy Spanish teledramas blaring through static television speakers. The couch shouldn’t have a dead gunman laying on it. That bloodstain will never come out.

There's a stray mutt of a man that tries to shoot him. Ash finishes him off with one breath. He doesn't look to see him fall.

Ash swallows. By the hallway, the door is left slightly ajar by a tawny-skin hand on the floor. The nails are painted red. There are small dots of freckles on the wrist.

_No. Please, God, no._

Ash shakes when he makes his way over and opens the door. Light gently covers the person laying down, and in a pool of her own blood, Ash sees the body of Copper Garcia on the ground.

“Fuck—” He scrambles to the floor and collapses to his knees and lifts her into his arms. “No, c’mon, _Copper!”_ He shakes her a few times, desperate, only for her head to loll onto his shoulder.

She’s growing colder.

“Not you, _come on!_ You were stronger than this!”

He waits with bated breath.

Copper’s chest doesn’t rise.

“Copper, for fuck sake, _please_!” He pleads, hugging her close. “If you’re dead, I am going to _kill_ you. Please, not you, _please..."_

A squeak of the floorboards breaks him out of his reverie. Ash gently lays Copper Garcia back onto the floor and closes her eyes, taking a moment to watch how she looks. This is the most peaceful he’s ever seen her.

Ash then grabs his gun and makes for the wall.

The squeaking carries on. Upstairs, two rooms to the left.

Ash grips his gun tighter, making slow slides to minimise the sounds from his own feet.

Whatever is causing the squeaking, it isn’t loud. One person, at most. Light-footed as well.

His breathing is kept slow. Steady. _That_ bastard was probably behind this, but if there’s one thing Golzine didn’t count on, was the similarities between surviving a merciless predator like him and warzone.

Ash prays his convulsing heart can’t be heard past his own ears.

Past the first door. There are no bullet holes here, no blood on the ground except his own footprints. They must’ve slipped past Copper after shooting her down like that. Like she was some stray dog.

Ash knows what he’s going to do. He is going to burn all their bodies to the ground. Then he’ll find the bastard who did this and skin them alive and make them believe no God exists. Or if they don’t believe, make them pick one and _pray_ for mercy. They deserve nothing less, but a _lot_ more.

The squeaking stops. There’s light shuffling. Ash bites his lip as he approaches the second door, nudges it open with his gun and hides behind the corner.

There's a bastard down on the floor cursing underneath his breath, trying to rattle a lock open.

It's one bullet through the skull before he drops to the floor with a red crown.

Ash holds his gun up and takes a moment to look around the room. It’s Copper’s bedroom, he realises, but it looks like a hurricane has been through it. The bed has been pushed up to the wall, individual drawers taken from the chest and piled on top of it. Clothes are strewn everywhere, and the blinds are drawn.

 _She’d never be like this,_ Ash thinks. _She’s terrible for keeping things neat and orderly._

The shuffling carries on again, and Ash realises it’s coming from the closet.

Creeping closer, the shuffling stops, and small _sobs_ emit instead.

Ash drops his gun and makes for the closet like a madman, pushing the bed aside with such force it makes his arms ache. He goes to open the door and finds that it’s locked; he rattles it and the sobs grow louder.

 _Please, let this be who I think it is._ He opens his mouth to try and say something— _anything—_ but it comes out as a wordless croak.

Ash grabs his knife from his pocket and digs it into the cheap lock, making short work of it, and opens the door.

Before him, a small child sits hunched against the door, clutching a red and blue backpack to her chest. Wide, doe-green eyes stare at him as he brings the light into the closet; he stares back at her in turn, and Ash finds he can do nothing but shake.

“Jaden,” he rasps out.

No tears fall from Jaden’s eyes. She manages to lift her head and look at him properly, but there’s no light there. She looks _exhausted._

The knife falls to the floor as Ash makes like a bullet towards her, wrapping his arms tightly around Jaden’s trembling body and pulling her close.

Ash isn’t the paternal type, not really, but there’s a routine he learned from Copper when Jaden was two: stroke her hair, shush her softly, and bounce her if needed. It used to work when she scraped her knees and bumped her head, or if she got frustrated over not being able to tie her shoes right.

None of that works now. Jaden shakes like she’s been stuck in the Arctic sea. No words come from her mouth.

“It’s alright,” he says to her, one hand behind her back as he grabs his gun and knife from the floor. “I’m here, okay? You’re going to be fine. We need to get out of here, but I promise I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Jaden doesn’t say anything. Her silence isn’t unusual, but this time, Ash feels his heart splinter. 

* * *

The car is registered in his name, technically. So, when he puts Jaden in the back seat, Ash hopes it strikes some life into her. Yet, it’s been two hours of driving around New York, and all she’s done is stayed in that little ball, curled around her backpack with her eyes wide open and staring at the gearstick.

It’s only now that Jaden has fallen asleep, curled up in his hoodie, that the world grants the kid some fucking peace and quiet. Crickets chirp an ironic aubade in the dead of night; Ash takes the time to pull up in a nearby parking lot and run a hand through his hair.

“Fuck,” Ash rasps, leaning his head back. The stars aren’t winking at him tonight; they’re covered in ashen-colored clouds. “Fuck, fuck, _fuck._ ”

The men—those fucking _bastards_ that killed Copper. Ash knows who they are; old cannon fodder from Golzine. He recognised one of them from nightmares he’d rather not go back to, but now is laced with yet another day of trauma that Ash can add to his mental library.

He’s fine if they violate him. He’s used to it.

Now his six-year-old kid is motherless, silent, and asleep in the _back of his car._

“Fuck,” Ash chokes out, leaning forward and covering his mouth with his hands.

 _Think, Aslan,_ he begs his brain, _think. You’ve gotta, you’ve gotta…_

Ash massages his temples, frustrated. All he’s been doing is driving around New York City, begging the city for answers.

New York City never sleeps, but it remains silent. Instead, the answer he’s looking for comes in the form of a memory, a snap back to a moment, and Ash pauses, lifting his head and searching in his pocket, pulling out a scrap of paper.

(“ _It’s getting more dangerous ‘round here,” Copper says, a sleeping Jaden on her hip as she stays by the front door to see Ash off. “I’m thinking of taking Jaden here for a bit, to lay low.”_

_“Are people bothering you?”_

_Copper shakes her head. “You kiddin’? I could put a bullet through any fucker’s skull.” The smirk fades when she feels Jaden nuzzle against her shoulder. “I know I’ve not long introduced you to her. I’m glad you’re not in too deep in that world anymore, not gonna shlep around those burdens. But I need to think about her safety first.”_

_Ash puts one hand in his pocket; the other pats the top of Jaden’s head. “_ _I know,” he whispers,not taking his eyes off of the slumbering Jaden._

_“Hold her a second.”_

_Ash blinks in surprise when she suddenly thrusts Jaden into his arms, almost going numb as a wash of dizzying warmth takes his limbs, prisoner. The way she sleeps against him, the way she’s curled up…_

_…it’s over before long, with Copper taking Jaden back, but she hands him a slip of paper._

_Ash narrows his eyes at the postcode. “This is in Detroit.”_

_“It’s where I’m planning on going with Jaden for a while.”_

_“How did you afford an apartment on the Riverfront in Downtown?” Ash furrows his brows. “You were always against using the money I got in my sales.”_

_"Believe it or not, I'm capable of putting some money away for emergencies.”_

_"Copper." The moment she says that a chill runs down his spine, and Ash sobers up. "You didn't dip into your medical savings, did you?"_

__Copper just shrugs his concerns off with a wry grin, pushing Ash out the door with one finger. "Never you mind about that, golden boy. I'm not about to put myself in danger." She flicks his chest and gestures to the street. "Go on, you need to get your ass home. Otherwise, some jocks may try and nab your lunch money."_ _

_If there's anything else to be said, it's lost._ _Copper doesn’t bother to add to the moment; it’s lost when she lets Ash kiss Jaden’s forehead to bid her goodnight, before closing the door on him._

_Ash watches as the porch light flickers; a moth near it dies, and he watches as its wings burn; the corpse drifts to the ground.)_

Copper only told him that two months ago. Between that and her looking to relocate, Ash _knows_ that can’t just be a coincidence. There was something she wasn’t telling him and introducing him to Jaden back then had to be a rushed thought on her part.

Ash back in the car chair, before grabbing his phone.

It’s only two rings before the panicked voice fills the speakers with sound. _“Ash? Is that you?”_

Ash sighs through his nose. “…Yeah. It’s me, Charlie.”

Charlie is silent for a moment. _“You were there, weren’t you?”_

“I came across the aftermath; Copper called me but hung up before the gunfire started. She was dead before I got to her. Jaden’s with me now.”

 _“Fuck. Okay, we’ll pull up the records of that call—_ ”

“Charlie,” Ash feels his voice fading from the exhaustion. “I need a favour. It’s the last one I’ll ever ask of you.”

_“Ash—”_

“Link this away from Jaden as much as you can. I’m relocating with her. I don’t know for how long. Maybe permanently.”

Ash closes his eyes. “I know this’ll fuck up the turf wars for your jurisdiction. I know Chinatown is barely under control right now, even with Shorter and Sing at the helm. Alex can handle any fallout, I trust that. But Copper knew someone was after her—she has a safe house of sorts, and I’ve got—”

_“Aslan.”_

Ash stills; mouth going dry.

_“You’re asking me to tamper with a police investigation.”_

“Yeah.”

 _“You know I can’t do that._ ”

“I know, I know! Can't you fucking _—_ ” Ash calms himself a bit and takes a breath. “I don’t know who else to call, Charlie. Please. If not for me, for Jaden.”

A deep sigh becomes static through the phone; Ash turns down his volume so that Jaden doesn’t stir. He almost wants her to stay dreaming forever. Ash wonders if Copper in her thoughts, holding her there right now.

Maybe Jaden's dreamland is the crossroads to that heaven Copper used to tell Jaden about. Ash doesn't believe in Gods, or God, or whatever language makes up a higher being, but if there is one, Copper better be at the mantle of what constitutes an angel.

_“I’ll see what I can do. I can’t promise anything drastic, Ash, but I trust you know what you’re doing.”_

Relief fills his heart, if not dampened by the events of tonight.

_I don’t know what to do._

“Thanks, Charlie.”

_“Do you know where you’re going?”_

“Yeah.” Ash pauses. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to contact you again, Charlie.” _So, thank you for everything you’ve ever done for me._ Those words are left unsaid on Ash’s trembling lips.

_“…Look after yourself, Ash. Make a good life for yourselves.”_

Ash hangs up before the sob can rip silently from his throat.

* * *

Ash gets to Detroit six hours later, in the early hours of the morning. There are legal paperwork and a couple of bluffs he has to pull; he’s gone for the _single tragic parent whose wife recently passed away before they could start their lives together,_ and he knows Jaden staring that thousand-yard stare is only selling the trauma to the landlady’s bleeding heart, but he’s using what tools he’s got at his arsenal.

Jaden moves like the dead to the little room she’s claimed as her own. There’s already glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to the ceiling, so Ash guesses Copper’s been here once with her already.

Jaden flops down onto the bed and curls up into a tight ball, and he figures being left alone is what she needs right now.

Ash sits down at a table with a newspaper and taps a pen against the table.

Detroit, huh.

There’s pretty-enough scenery with the waterfront, he supposes, and he’s not the only one to think so. There’s a kid out there—probably no older than eighteen years old—taking pictures of the water.

Ash narrows his eyes as he looks out of the window. _Weirdo. Who’s up at this hour willingly?_

Anything for the golden hour, he read about in photography. Ash is lucky if time grants him a second that isn’t marked red.

So, Detroit.

If Ash is lucky, he can lay low here with Jaden for a few years, build up a local persona. Maybe mingle with some of the parents, build Jaden a support network if it all goes turn-side and he’s got to dash into a gunfight to keep her safe. Identities aren’t hard either – Copper already sorted that when she told him that she needed to take Jaden away for a while, and it isn’t like Ash _doesn’t_ have a few aliases to hand. Medical - that's going to be a bit harder to puzzle around with his DNA on file, but not impossible to rework if he’s given access to a couple of systems—but it’s different with Jaden and whilst he doesn’t have the money he used to, he can figure something out, though he’s not exactly going to trust any back-alley doctors with _his_ little girl, but—

Wait.

A sudden flush of heat floods his cheeks.

_When did I get so protective? **My** little girl?_

Ash tugs on his collar to get rid of some of the heat and sighs, hanging his head.

It’s not like he’s forgotten. The images are burned into his head like scars. Copper’s lifeless body, blood on the walls, and Jaden huddled in that closet. It’s going to scar Jaden for life.

“You’re a fucking liar, Copper,” Ash laughs bitterly. “You always said you wouldn’t go down easy. Now, look at everything. _I’m_ the one who’s gotta get Jaden to remember _you._ ”

He leans his head on the table and closes his eyes.

“It was supposed to be the other way around.”

* * *

Something’s at the foot of his bed. The dreams never leave, not really, but Ash has trained his mouth not to let rip whenever those shadowy hands ghost over his body. It’s better for everyone to think he’s on the mend.

But once in a while, something slips. A cry, a scream, a name.

This time, there’s a noise. Ash's reaction would be indiscriminate to anything—he shoots up in bed and screams, “ _fuck off! Get out of here, and don’t come back!”_

He breathes heavily as the sound stops. Once he’s checked around the room and only sees his bedroom door left ajar like he fell asleep to, Ash settles back down on the pillow and ignores how drenched in sweat his body is.

The next morning, he wakes to find a curled-up Jaden by his door, eyes wide open.

There are two months of summer vacation left, and the leaves on the trees have started turning red, trailing in the winds near the river. The weather’s still pretty warm, for the most part, but the time for vest shirts and shorts is pretty much over.

It’s been a week since Copper died. Jaden still isn’t talking.

She’s sitting at the kitchen table and staring at the bowl of cereal that Ash has made for her like it’s some sort of poison.

“Oi,” he pushes her spoon with the pen he’s holding. “Eat.”

Jaden scrunches her nose up and folds her arms, looking away in a huff.

 _What a strange kid._ Ash just shrugs. “Starve, then.”

Jaden’s eyes narrow until her green eyes are practically shadows.

Ash tries to concentrate on reading the paper for the latest news—maybe to catch a glimpse of New York or to see if his or Jaden’s names are mentioned. There’s no WiFi in here yet, and he’s not ventured out of the apartment beyond basic grocery shopping, so there’s no sneaking off to the library.

When Jaden begins to click her tongue against her teeth, Ash’s eye twitches. He ignores it for what feels like an hour, before his fist clenches so hard it snaps the cheap biro pen.

“Do you _have_ to keep doing that?” He looks down at how soggy the cereal is becoming. “Why won’t you eat?”

Jaden just shrugs.

 _Alright, maybe try something different._ “Are you in the mood to eat anything else?”

Jaden shrugs again.

“You know humans need food to survive, right? You won’t live long if you don’t eat.”

Jaden takes one, hard look at him, glares with furrowed brows, and stomps off. Her bedroom door slams so hard that the walls shake from terror.

Ash is left sitting there, speechless. _How the hell did I fuck this one up?_

This pattern continues for a few days, with Jaden refusing to eat more than a few nibbles, drink more than a few gulps. Ash knows she isn’t starving herself purposefully—he’s seen the packets of biscuits she’s sneaking to her bedroom, stuffed underneath her bed.

The problem here lies, with him. As usual.

And—he gets it, he thinks. Ash wasn’t present in Jaden’s life for five years. She only really knew of him in passing, photographs, and stories. For Jaden, it’s like her father came back from the dead. He’s more of a ghost to her than a father.

Jaden doesn’t trust him, not really. Not comfortable.

He’s watching as she stares down at the boiled egg and toast he’s prepared for her. Ash _knows_ she’s eaten this for Copper before, but she’s not touching it, though she’s poking at it with a fork.

“Alright, that’s it.” Ash puts down the newspaper and slips his red converse on. “Get your coat.”

Jaden’s head shoots up, and she tilts her head quizzically.

“You heard me,” he already has her shoes, putting them next to the chair. “We’re going out.”

* * *

The nearest grocery store is a fifteen-minute walk. Quick and easy. The kid could use some fresh air, and Ash could use a new brain to replace the fucked up one that can’t seem to connect with his own kid.

Jaden scurries on behind him, keeping her eyes weirdly focused on the floor. Maybe she’s counting the cracks in the pavement – she used to do that when she was learning to count, Copper once told him.

They come to a road, and he holds an arm out to stop her. “Wait for it to turn green,” he tells Jaden, before grabbing her hand when the light flashes. He pulls her along, keeping a sharp eye on the road ahead.

Jaden says nothing, but her little hand curls around his. Clearly, he’s unable to pull away now.

When they get to the local grocery store, he grabs a basket instead of a shopping cart and crouches down to Jaden’s height, leveling with her.

“Alright, Jaden.” He gestures to all of the aisles. “I get that I’m not your favourite person right now. So, the stage is yours.”

Jaden looks at the store, then back at him with furrowed brows.

Ash sighs, before offering a smile. “Choose anything you want. But!” He holds up a finger. “The trade-off is you’ve gotta eat up at the table. _Not_ under your bed.”

Jaden glances at Ash, then back at the grocery store. He almost misses it when she mutters, “…anything?”

Ash doesn’t bother fighting the smile on his face as he hears that little word slips out. “Anything. So long as it is not _just_ biscuits and cookies.”

Jaden takes this into consideration, before tugging on his sleeve. The cheeky brat takes him to the aisle with all the cookbooks first.

* * *

The sound of screaming has Ash bolting to Jaden’s room before his mind can fully catch up with reality.

“Jaden!” He’s at her bedside, gripping her shoulders as she thrashes around wildly. “Jaden—oi, _Jaden!”_

She punches him in the face a few times and cries, _“NO, NO!”_

“Wait, _Jaden—”_ He gently slaps her cheek and she _stares_ at him, eyes wide and crusting over with tears.

“It’s me, it’s _me._ ”

Jaden regards him, long and drawn-out. When reality hits her, she crumbles, and curls up whilst whimpering, _“Mami.”_

Ash brings her into a hug, patting her back like he remembers Copper doing back when Jaden had started teething and feels his heart shatter.

* * *

Ash (or, shall we say, _Christopher Ashton)_ starts work one month before summer vacation ends, three days after turning 24. It’s a regular 9-5 diner job, cooking disgusting fried food on a grill and serving barely conscious people (be it from office jobs or nights cruising the town).

It’s three hours in when he knows he’s caught the eye of more than a few regular patrons. More than once he’s caught a wandering hand down where _he’d gladly snap it off._

Ash grits his teeth. Puts on a smile. Finds comfort in the knowledge that if they were on his stage, they’d all be bleeding where their teeth used to be. And carries on.

He’s sweeping in the break room when the sound of idle gossip draws his attention. He’s never really known what _normal_ people talk about in jobs like these. In passing, in concept, but he’s never seen it in reality.

It’s like he’s watching one of Shorter’s animal documentaries, observing these guys. The one with the British guy.

 _“…_ and then they gave him a foul!”

“What the hell? That can’t be right. What did he even do wrong?”

“Word’s on the street that he bribed the coach.”

 _Oh. Soccer._ Ash can’t really relate. He doesn’t do sports. He hasn't since he was eight.

“Hey, Ashton! Why’re you lingering? Come over here.”

Ash blinks for a moment before the name registers in his head. He puts a hand in his pocket and leans against the wall, coming a little out of his safe alcove. “Yeah?”

“We were just talking about the game last week. You a fan?” One guy – Ash reckons his name is Mark – asks as he takes a drag of a cigarette. The smell reminds him of Shorter.

Ash shakes his head. “Sorry. Not into it.”

“Shame,” the girl says – Wendy? That’s what the nametag says. “You look like you’d be fun to go to a game with.”

Ash hooks a brow and says nothing.

“Not much of a talker, are you?” Wendy saunters up to him and giggles and – oh, Ash already _knows_ how _much_ he’s going to get along with her. “I’d love to get to know you more.”

“I’m not interested,” Ash says defensively.

“Lay off the guy, Wendy. Go sink your claws into Jason again.” Mark throws an arm around her and gently steers her away. “She means no harm, dude. She’s just a shameless flirt.”

“She’s not my type.”

“Ah, you gay or something?”

Ash lets the chips fall where they may by not answering and shrugs it off.

Wendy flushes _horribly_ like she has a fever; Mark laughs loud and pats her on the back. “Second time this week, aye Wendy?”

“Fuck off.”

“Oh, Ashton—by the way.” Mark doesn’t even give Wendy a glance as she stomps off back to work. “The boss was looking for you. Says she needs to talk to you about your performance for today.”

 _Great._ “Thanks.”

The ‘Boss’ is a title only – really, she’s just a woman named Delphine Marquez, 53 years old with an impressive number of cornrows pulled into a bun, and a deadpan stare that could make even Golzine shudder in his boots. Say nothing about the mafia – the real people who know courage is a diner and retail workers who deal with the worst of humanity every day.

Well, that's how Ash would like to think. Really, she'd be gunned down like the rest of them.

Ash squeezes himself into her tiny office and sits down, gangly legs sticking up.

“Ashton,” Delphine says, looking down at him from the bridge of his glasses. “Do you know why I’ve called you in here?”

“No clue.” _A million._

“I need you to be honest with me,” she points to her computer. “Your hours. They’re consistent with schooling hours. Do you have a kid?”

 _Shit._ Ash turns his head away and resists the urge to curse underneath his breath. “Depends. You planning on firing me if I say yes?”

“ _Ashton._ ”

He swallows. “Got a daughter. She’s six.”

“No other parent?”

Ash looks up at her, narrowing his eyes. “What’s it to you?”

“A young man comes begging for a job the moment I put an ad out, and only wants 9-5, near a school who’s just started accepting applications for new students. He’s looking tired, puts up with more crap and sexual harassment from the customers than this place is worth, and yet I see his notes showing signs of university-level work.”

“You got all that from five hours of watching me work?”

Delphine looks down at him. “I’m not stupid, boy. I’ve seen your type echoed in three of my kids, two of which are raising their boys alone.”

Something overcomes him. Ash isn’t sure what, but he feels vulnerable enough to slump in his chair and sigh. “No mother.” He admits, playing with his fingers. “Passed away this year.”

“And let me guess. You were the deadbeat?”

Ash scowls at her but doesn’t argue back.

“Or you had something you couldn’t help. Bit of a bad boy, were you?”

“Maybe.”

Delphine pulls out a rota and a pen, and hands it to Ash. “You circle what shifts you’re willing to take, what you’re available for. I don’t usually do first-pickings, but time-management is going to be a godsend in these first few months of adjustment.”

Ash’s mouth dries from where it hangs agape. Wordlessly, he sees what shifts are best for his schedule – ones that align with Jaden’s school hours, others enough so he can catch some sleep after dropping Jaden to school.

When he puts the pen down, Delphine nods. “That’s good.”

Ash goes to stand up again, when a hand stops him. “Ashton, one more thing.”

He turns back. “Yeah?”

Delphine gives him a knowing smile. “Next time some perverted bastard puts his hand on you, deck him good, alright? I’d rather cut a bit of my own wage to cover costs then have his dirty money in my diner, alright?”

For the first time since work started, Ash can’t help but grin a little. “Sure thing, boss.”

* * *

There’s a steady line of cookbooks lining the small bookshelf in the living room, nestled nearly between an armchair and the wall. Ash has one open right now, finger tracing underneath the words, the smell of vegetables cooking filling the air.

It was one of the books Jaden picked out a couple of weeks ago – he’s not a culinary expert by any means, and working in a diner has dampened any relaxing effect cooking _could_ have, but Copper would kill him if Ash fed her daughter on _TV dinners._

Jaden drags herself from the couch, pulling up a kitchen chair to peek at what he’s doing.

“What do you think?” Ash gestures to the wok. “Am I doing any good?”

Jaden tilts her head. “…What is it?”

“Something your Mami made. Chicken with coconut milk?”

Jaden’s eyes _shine,_ and she immediately grabs a spoon to taste the sauce… and her expression twists to something akin to displeasure. “You forgot the ginger!”

“I did?” Ash looks in the recipe book. “It’s not written in here.”

“Duh, because these things never have enough spices or herbs.” Jaden snaps her fingers. “Go get it!”

“Yes, ma'am.” Ash laughs and grates some fresh ginger, adding it to the wok. “Anything else?”

Jaden gives it another taste-test and puts her thumbs up. “Not bad for you. Mami’s is better, though.”

“Did Copper used to say that about everything I cooked?”

Jaden grins. “Every time.”

The atmosphere settles into something a little more pleasant, with Ash showing Jaden how to hold the knife as she dices a few vegetables with a blunt, kid-friendly kitchen knife; her teasing him on the lack of seasoning. There’s so much of Copper in her that it makes him almost believe that, for a moment, her mother is speaking through Jaden, scolding him. Maybe he can delude himself.

Copper wasn’t his true love, nor did they even last long. They were sixteen, dumb, and thought they knew everything about love when they dove into it. But it was long enough to get attached and long enough to form a friendship that hurt when she cut him out.

When Jaden pokes at her food, Ash is scared he’s done it wrong again. “You don’t like it?”

Jaden shakes her head. “Not that.”

“…What is it?”

Biting her lip, Jaden peeks up at him. “Tell me about why Mami never let you see me.”

If it’s possible, Ash’s heart falls to the bottom of his stomach. He stares at Jaden, sees how the hope burns in her eyes, before tearing his gaze away from her.

“I can’t.”

Instead of whining, Jaden just nods, silent, and shoves a forkful of food into her mouth. Ash doesn’t comment on the tears that slide down her face – when he tries, she shrugs him away.

* * *

Ash gets 30 minutes of sleep this time before the loud sobbing starts again and his eye twitches, head burning.

“For fuck _sake!”_ He shouts, throwing his duvet off and going over to Jaden’s room. She’s standing there, wiping her red eyes and looking about ready to keel over. “Jaden, what is it _now?”_

“I—” Her words catch on a sob. “ _Nothing.”_

“It’s obviously not nothing!” Ash massages his temples and sits down on her bed. “This is two weeks running now, Jaden. What keeps scaring you? What keeps making you cry so loudly?”

“ _Nothing!”_ She stomps her foot and glares. “What do you care?”

“Because you are being loud and it keeps _both_ of us up, believe it or not!” He’s tired and frustrated and the words don’t stop spilling out of his mouth. “It’s getting beyond a joke how little we’re sleeping.”

“I’m not doing it to be bad!” Jaden’s voice catches as she wails, “I’m not doing it to be funny!”

“Yet you won’t even tell me what’s wrong. I don’t—” Ash massages his temples and feels his own tears of frustration bud at his eyes. “I can’t do this. Jim was right all along. I can’t fucking _do_ this.”

“Do _what,_ Ash?!” Jaden goes over and slaps his shoulder, again and again. “Can’t what? Can’t _what?_ Be my dad? Be _there?!”_

“Stop—” Ash catches her hands. “Will you just _behave yourself!”_

“Is that what you want? For me to be a _good girl?_ For me to be quiet _all the time?”_

“It’d make _sleeping_ a lot fucking easier if you weren’t so difficult!”

Jaden stops hitting his shoulders. She withdraws, away from him.

“Go away.”

That brings Ash back to reality. “Jaden—”

“Go _away._ I want to sleep now. Get out of my room.”

* * *

Jaden didn’t say anything to him at breakfast, or when he was telling her to get ready. Just gave him red-eyed scowls and following basic commands, and Ash feels his heart lurch. He wants the mischievous, rude little child back.

This one feels like a ghost.

“Don’t see what’s wrong with home-schooling,” Ash grumbles as he loads Jaden up into the car and clips her in, before slamming the door on the driver’s side. “Served me well enough as a kid.”

Jaden scowls right back at him; he can see it in the rear-view mirror as he turns the key into the ignition.

“I _want_ to go to school.”

“We all _want_ things, kid.” Ash swivels around a little as he reverses out. “Doesn’t mean we’re gonna get them. Just saying it’d be a hell of a lot easier.”

“Like it’d be easier if I wasn’t here?”

Ash stills, shock striking his heart. “Wh—no, not at all. That’s not it.”

His reassurances are shit to a stubborn six-year-old, who is currently folding her arms _and_ legs in a huff, refusing to look at him.

Ash sighs, letting the conversation come to an awkward end, and focuses on the road ahead of him. He doesn’t care to let his stare linger for too long as he drives off down the road until he pulls up at Jaden’s new school. It’s a clean building at least, with some multi-colored play equipment in the courtyard. 

“Right, here we are.” He quirks a brow at her. “Happy?”

Jaden shrugs, hugging her backpack tight.

“What?”

Her lip curls into a pout. “ _You_ have to come in with me to do all the grown-up stuff.” Jaden glares up at him. “ _Mami_ would already know that.”

“Well _Mami’s_ not here, kid, so I’m the best you’ve got.”

The words fly out of his stupid, _stupid_ fucking mouth before he gets the chance to bite his tongue. Hurt’s already been done; Jaden’s eyes go glassy and her lip wobbles before she bursts into tears.

“Shit—” Ash quickly gets out of the car and climbs into the backseat, massaging his temples. “Jaden, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

She glares up at him with red eyes. “You’re _horrible._ I hate you!” Her lip wobbles. “I want Mami, not _you!”_

Ash swallows something thick in his throat. He leans against the glass window and lets his shoulders go lax. There are bags underneath his _and_ Jaden’s eyes; he’s never felt this old, even at twenty-three.

Probably should’ve kicked the bucket before Jaden was born; at least Copper could disguise what a shit person he was when raising her.

But like he said: Copper Garcia isn’t here. It’s just Ash, Aslan fucking Callenreese, and he’s got a six-year-old kid in the backseat of his car, crying because he couldn’t bite his tongue last night and pretend long enough to make her feel better. The least he can do is make up for it now.

The crying meets an interlude of sniffles, a respite.

Ash seizes the moment best he can.

“Before she let me meet you for the first time,” Ash begins, and he can see Jaden peer up at him with curious, if not skeptical eyes. “Your Mami made me memorize an entire list of shopping for things you’d need. If I got even one thing wrong, she made me buy the entire list again.”

A small laugh hiccups through the kid’s tears; he’s making progress. Ash’s heart swells a little.

“I got frustrated with her. She got impatient with me. We fought right in the middle of some store she made me drive two hours out for.” Ash chuckles himself—clearing his throat and looking down at Jaden. “Your Mami calls me a coward a lot, yeah?” Jaden nods at him with a small smile. “Well, I was gonna throw in the towel and leave the dumb list to her. I thought it was a waste of time. Then—”

Ash bows his head as he laughs. “Right in the middle of the store, Copper Garcia shouts to me, in plain Spanish, “ _No corras, ten huevos, Aslan!”_ Stomping her foot in front of at least sixty people. _”_

Jaden slaps a hand over her mouth and _giggles._ “Mami said a bad word!”

“Oh, I deserved it.” Ash grabs a tissue from a small pack in the car door compartment and begins wiping away the tears on Jaden’s face. “She’s one of the few people who can kick some sense into me.” Ash feels himself soften. “You’re so much like her.”

Jaden takes the tissue and blows into it, scrunching it up in her hands. “You don’t…”

“Mm?”

She peers up at him. “You don’t really find me that difficult, right? You’re not tired of me?”

“ _God,_ no.” Ash takes the scrunched tissue and tosses it into the front seat, putting an arm around Jaden. “I’m… very sleepy, and a lot of this is new for me.” Admitting insecurities and flaws in a way that’s _age-appropriate_ makes his tongue trip over the words. “But you’re one of the best things to ever happen to me and your Mami. Plus, I know you’re tired too.”

Jaden curls up against Ash’s side; he feels his breathing stutter. “…I’m trying to sleep. I swear.”

“I know you are, kid.”

“I don’t hate you. I’m sorry I said that. It was mean.”

“Eh,” Ash waves off the apology and tries a grin. “I’d be mean too if someone said that to me about Griff. I was an ass.”

“Griff?”

Ash’s eyes widen. “I’ve… not told you about Griffin.” Jaden shakes her head. “Huh, that’s… I’ve not told you a lot of stuff, have I?”

Jaden shrugs. “You’ve never told me why you never saw me till lately.”

Ash feels his heart _fracture._ “Ah.” _Think, you moron._ “I will, Jaden. I will at some point.”

Jaden holds out her little finger. “Promise?”

Ash knows he was never meant to live past the age of eighteen, let alone _be a father._ Jaden, he knows, deserves better than a former street gang leader for a father; someone who knows how to bite their tongue and not make their kid cry because of frustration and lack of sleep. Copper did it all the time. Ash didn’t have an excuse of inexperience.

But if _Jim Callenreese_ could be a father, even in-name-only, maybe Ash could be better than the example he grew up with. Maybe he could ride out the next couple of years without traumatizing her too much.

Ash could try to be kind; he could try to be gentle. He could, at the very least, protect her from any more gunfights like the one who stole the one good parent she had.

Ash’s little finger hooks around hers, and he can already see the promise sealed in his brain.

_Forever._

* * *

Ash picks up Jaden from school approximately six and a half hours later. She bundles into the car, her little backpack almost bursting at the seams, and _scowls_ at him.

“Uh…” Ash blinks in confusion. “How was your first day?”

Jaden launches the backpack at his face. “ _Awful!”_

On reflex, Ash catches it and notices that the backpack is full of slips of _paper._ Curious, he takes one out and sees that a phone number is written in scrawl. “What’s all this?”

“All the Moms saw you, Ash!” Jaden throws her arms up in the air in exasperation. “They asked me, _oh, is your Daddy attached?_ I didn’t understand! They asked me if he had a girlfriend and I said no, and then all of them made me take these numbers back to you! They kept calling you _yummy!_ It was gross!”

“Jaden—” Ash tries to ignore the way his heart twists at _Daddy._ He runs a hand through his hair. “Just tell them I’m gay next time, okay? It’ll get them off your back.”

Jaden keeps the scowl on her face and grabs her lunch bag, unzipping it and dumping all the scraps of paper onto the floor. “These are from all the _Dads.”_

 _Fuck._

Ash ends up treating her to a nearby Burger King for Jaden’s troubles. He doesn’t even bat an eye at her ordering a large adult meal with the veggie burger, and the biggest milkshake she can, but a part of his heart warms up when she has to be careful carrying it with both hands.

She’s halfway through that milkshake when she takes her mouth off the straw. “Wait, Ash?”

Ash stops halfway into biting his piece of chicken and wipes his mouth. “Yeah?”

“If you’re gay, why did you have me with Mami?”

Ash chokes a little and thumps his chest. “I—”

He sees Jaden’s big, beady eyes staring up at him innocently, and feels himself begin to sweat. _How the fuck can you explain the concept of a drunken one-night stand to a six-year-old?_

Eventually, Ash finds some words. “I… I’m not gay.”

Jaden sips her drink. “I know. You’re like Mami. You like both boys and girls.”

“You _knew?”_ The burger drops back onto the table and Ash _glares._ “You are just like your mother.”

Jaden kicks her legs back and forth underneath the table and shoots Ash a teasing grin, reaching over to steal one of his fries. Ash doesn’t stop her.

Instead, it shakes Ash how much of Copper is in that smile.

(He doesn't finish the rest of his food.)

* * *

“Ash! _Ash!”_

He’s reading a book when Jaden comes marching in, bouncing on her toes, one hand clenched in a fist. “What is it?”

“Look!”

Jaden procures a slightly bloodied, cavity-infested tooth. She’s beaming like its solid gold.

“Your tooth came out?” Ash puts the book down and chuckles. “Looks like someone’s had a lot of sugar.”

Jaden pouts. “ _Ash._ ”

“Alright, alright,” he relents, holding his hands up in surrender. “So, what do you want me to do?”

“Mami always used to take a picture of me with my smile after a tooth came out! Then we gotta wait for the tooth fairy.” She frowns, voice going a little quieter. “I hope she doesn’t get lost trying to find me now that I don’t live at home anymore. Mami probably lives with the fairies now. She can show her.”

It feels like a stone has settled at the bottom of his gut. _Copper’s probably bossing all the fairies around, making sure you get the best presents._ “Yeah,” he croaks. “She sure will.”

“So?”

Ash blanches. “So, what?”

Jaden rolls her eyes and thrusts his phone into his hands. “Take a photo of me! Its _tradition,_ dummy.”

A smile upturns his mouth. “Alright, _missy._ ”

He puts up his phone and focuses the camera when Jaden groans again. “What did I do wrong _now?”_

Jaden grabs his arm and sits on his lap. Her cheeks dust red. “…Take it _with_ me, duh. Don’t you know anything?”

Oh. _Oh._

Ash ignores his thrumming heart. “Sure.” He says quietly, wrapping an arm around Jaden. Around his kid. His daughter.

Their heads press together, Jaden’s with her toothy grin; Ash with an awkward smile and he can tell that it’s not just him who chooses to ignore the strain of keeping their eyes open as the timer goes off.

When the photograph is done, Jaden hops off of his lap. “Print it off for me!” She demands, before running off to her bedroom.

Ash continues to stare at the photo for a good, long hour.

* * *

“Son of a _bitch.”_ Ash slams his hand on the car wheel again and groans. He’s on the highway, halfway to work, and the car’s stopped working again, he's living off of four coffees and a shitty half of a sandwich and life _sucks_.

He’s got half a mind to grab a toolbox and get working on it himself—he’s no mechanic, but Shorter’s mechanic, Yaz, they’ve taught him a bit about how an engine works enough for minor maintenance—until he realises he’s already late for work.

Ash groans into the wheel and throws a quick text to Delphine to update her on the situation, before calling up a local mechanic to toe it to the nearest garage. He waits until his car is out of sight before stuffing his hands into his pockets and walking the rest of the way there.

By the time he turns up, he’s meeting Wendy on the shift turnover.

“You look like shit,” she says, tapping the ashes off of her cigarette.

“And you still look single. Don’t see me laughing at you.”

She chokes on smoke and tries to make a comeback, but Ash just storms into the kitchen and downs a coffee like it’s a shot of liquid courage.

_Delphine’s right, at least. Coffee’s much better than the shit food they serve._

He grabs his phone and is about to text the mechanic when an idea pops into his head. Going into his gallery, he swipes through until he finds a picture of Jaden, a tooth missing and beaming up at him, and sets it as his home and lock screen.

 _A reminder why I put up with this shit,_ he says to himself, but smiles.

* * *

Ash, for once, manages to close his eyes and let out a few peaceful breaths before the screaming starts again, followed by all the smashing and stomping around. He rubs his eyes and opens the door.

He’s not surprised to see Jaden hidden under the table with her bedroom door closed. When he crouches down, there are angry tears on Jaden’s scrunched-up face.

“I didn’t get scared,” she insists with a sniffle. 

_No, you’re just mad._ Ash cocks his head to the side and puts his hands out. “Come on, Jaden,” he urges, “I’ll make you some cocoa.”

Jaden still doesn’t look him in the eye when she crawls out and into his arms, throwing her arms over his shoulders lazily. “I’m not scared,” she grumbles again, little hands becoming fists.

Ash pats her back goes over to the fridge to get the milk. “Sure.”

He’s not even halfway through pouring it into her unicorn-shaped mug when she balls her fists into his shirt. “I said I’m not _scared._ ”

“Then what are you?”

That throws Jaden; her mouth hangs agape. Ash takes advantage of the silence to put the milk in the microwave and put the timer on, before leaning against the kitchen countertop and patting her back until the timer counts down to zero.

There’s a piping cup of cocoa for Jaden when he sits down, and she’s balancing the mug on the chair rather than the table as she stays with her arms and legs wrapped around him. Ash takes to checking his phone for anything—news, the time, how to care for a kid with chronic nightmares.

“I want honey.”

Ash looks over at her. “What?”

Jaden holds up her mug. “Mami puts honey in it.”

Ash’s heart twists. “I… I’ll see if we have any.”

It’s a lie: he already knows he doesn’t. But just to get her to feel a _little_ hope, he lifts her up and makes an act of looking around the cupboards, the fridge, the drawers. Seeing it fall in her face is enough to make Ash’s heart stutter, and he rubs the back of his neck.

“I…” _Think, you supposed ‘genius’._ “I don’t have honey here, but would some sugar do?”

“ _Extra_ sugar?” Jaden looks scandalized. “Mami would never let me do that!”

Ash sets her down on the countertop and puts a finger over his lips. “Then we’ll keep it a secret, so she doesn’t ever find out.”

Maybe it’s cruel to still talk about Copper like she’s alive. But to Jaden, in those nightmares, she’s already reminded that Copper Garcia was taken too soon. If she can have a little delusion that Copper’s alive enough to scold Ash about giving her extra sugar in her hot drinks before bed, then he’s not going to deny her that.

He never claimed to be a good dad. But he’ll be a kind one.

* * *

“Ash. _Ash.”_

Whatever tries to wake him, Ash swats away with a wild hand. This is kind of nice, with his pillow feeling like cold wood.

_“ASH!”_

Something _whacks_ him in his face, wet and cold, and it sends Ash crashing onto a hard-tiled floor. He plucks the wet towel from his face, rubs his head and curses, before trying to find out who has the _audacity_ to wake him from what is the first decent sleep he'd had in weeks—

Oh. It’s Jaden. She’s looking mildly panicked, with her face paling. “Why are you so hard to wake up, dummy!”

Ash stands up and brushes off his sweats. “Everything okay?”

“No!” Jaden tries to tug his arm. “Ash, I have _school_ today!”

“So?” He ignores his kid’s gobsmacked expression when he goes over to the kitchen and pops a piece of bread into the toaster. “You do every day.”

“ _Idiota!_ ” Jaden launches herself up onto his shoulders and forces his head to look at the clock. “It’s 8:30! I have to be there in when the big hand on the clock goes to 12!”

“It’s not that far of a drive, Jaden. Just go get dressed—”

Jaden slaps a hand to her forehead before grabbing Ash’s collar and sticking her feet on his ribs. “ _The car is broken, remember?!”_

Ash blinks. Once. Twice.

_“Shit.”_

It’s a mess, really. Jaden’s outfit consists of yesterday’s jeans with a paint stain on them and a gaudy purple hoodie that she hates; Ash barely has time to throw on a clean shirt and get Jaden’s teeth brushed. He thanks _whatever God exists_ that he made her lunch the day before and packs a load of extra food in there for good measure.

It’s 8:37 by the time they leave the door.

“How are we gonna get there on time?” Jaden looks close to crying when there are no buses that’ll be there until way past 9. “Ash, I can’t be late! I don’t want to be late again!”

Ash knows the route like the back of his hand. Knows a few shortcuts. If he runs, he can shave the hour’s walk into a half-hour run. It won’t be perfectly on time, but—

Crouching down, he pats his back. “Get on.”

Jaden startles. “ _What?”_

“I said _get on._ We don’t have time to argue.”

Without a word of protest, Jaden clambers onto his back. Ash gets a good grip on her in turn and looks over his shoulder at her uncertain expression. “Hold on tight,” Ash tells Jaden before breaking out into a sprint.

* * *

There’s a boy that takes photographs by the Detroit River. Ash sees him every morning before getting in the car to take Jaden to school. To this day, Ash has never seen his face not obscured by a camera. Only the soft curve of his jaw and one honey-glazed eye unclosed as he stares out at the water.

This is the same guy that Ash, whilst yelling to Jaden to check the time as he runs with her on his back, that Ash unceremoniously collides with in the middle of his route toward Jaden’s school.

_“Dammit!”_

Ash just about twists so that Jaden doesn’t fall to the ground and hurt herself, but he’s thanked with scuffed knees.

He doesn’t particularly care for the other person he’s just knocked down as he goes over to Jaden and checks her over. “Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

Jaden tries to bat him away, embarrassed. “I’m _fine,_ dummy.”

“You sure?” He tilts her head back. “You didn’t knock anything, or scratch yourself—”

“ _Ash!”_ Jaden points sharply away from them. “You knocked him over! Go mother _him._ ”

Attention successfully diverted. He can almost see the videogame signal overhead for Jaden: _Mission Accomplished!_ Or something like that.

“It is alright!” An unfamiliar voice says with an unfamiliar accent—Japanese, maybe? One of Shorter’s men had parents from Tokyo—but the guy is obviously amused. “I am fine. There is no need to worry. Are you two alright?”

Ash scowls at the other man. “We’re fine. Can’t you watch where you’re going?”

Jaden gasps. “ _Ash!”_

The man bristles. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me, klutz.”

As Ash stands up, so does the other man, trying to square up against Ash and—well. He’s shorter than Ash by at least a few inches; Ash levies that to try and sway any potential challenge this guy could have with him by staring him down in those dark eyes of his.

The stare down lasts a few seconds before Ash rolls his eyes. “We don’t have time for this.”

He picks up Jaden and lets her wrap her arms around his neck, grabbing her backpack in his other hand. “Don’t crash into people in a rush next time.” Ash snaps, before starting back on his run.

Jaden hits his shoulder. “That was rude.”

He can’t help but smirk. “Did it put the guy in his place, at least?”

Humming, Jaden peeks over his shoulder. “No, but he’s putting up the bad finger at you.”

With the number of curses that comes out of Ash’s mouth directed back at the guy, Ash doesn’t blame Jaden for pulling $15 out of his wallet for the swear jar later. 

They make it to Jaden’s school with 30 seconds to spare.

* * *

There’s no work today. He’s stranded Downtown until Jaden finishes school, and whilst he could walk back, Ash doesn’t see the point in staying at the apartment for only four hours until he has to walk back again. So, he does what he does best in any new place.

He finds the local public library and begins to read.

At first, it’s the usual. Political journals, introspective novels, and collections of poetry. Idly, he picks up a Japanese-language book and flicks through it, finding a few words that capture his interest.

Then it’s the child psychology books. He files away a lot of notes for later.

He’s in a quieter part of the library, barely anyone around. Ash glances left and right, before pulling out his burn phone and dialing a familiar number.

_“Yo, you’ve called the number for the Chang Dai. This is Mr. Chang speaking, how can I help you?”_

Ash barely resists a laugh. _Nadia’s stuck you on phone duty after all, then?_ He clears his throat. “Hey.”

“ _Holy shit—if this is who I think it is—you bastard!”_

Ash leans against the wall and slides down until he’s sitting on the floor. “Hey, Shorter.”

_“You have got so much fucking explaining to do—Jaden, is she—”_

“She’s with me.”

Shorter breathes a sigh of what Ash can only assume is from relief. _“We were all scared – you know some people blame you for what happened to Copper, right?”_

Ash takes a moment. “I figured.”

 _“Ash, where_ are _you?”_

“Can’t tell you. It was Golzine’s men.”

 _“That fucking—”_ Shorter curses something in Cantonese that Ash can’t translate. _“Look, I’ll come to you, Ash. Just give me a hint or something. How the hell are you coping on your own with a kid? She only knew you were around last year!”_

“Coping.” Ash massages his temples. “I can’t stay long. I’m fine, okay?”

_“Like shit you’re fine. You sound like you’re dead.”_

“Part of my charming personality.”

_“Ash… just—let me help, okay? I loved Copper and Jaden too – we all did. We can help.”_

“Can’t risk it. Just look after my guys, okay?”

Shorter takes a moment. “ _I hope you know what you’re doing. Just know I will give you a hand if you give me a sign—anything, and I’m there, okay? I swear I will be.”_

A smile turns his lips up, despite how tired he is. “I know, Shorter. Later.”

The phone turns off from the call, and Ash snaps it in half.

* * *

Just one more week until he gets the car back, then Ash can start driving again. It’s both a blessing and a curse – the nightmares aren’t stopping for Jaden, so maybe driving in his current state is more likely to get them all killed.

Yet the downside is that Ash keeps seeing that fucking _photographer,_ taking pictures of the riverfront. At first, he was paranoid that it was one of Golzine’s men observing him, but no—

This guy is just a pain in the ass who _likes_ early mornings.

Jaden’s a little sleepy but managed to grab at least three hours, so she’s more chipper. She’s talking about something related to… books? He’s nodding along, trying to follow the conversation, but he’s kind of out of it.

What she does next, however, brings him back into reality.

“Oh! It’s the guy you were rude to, Ash!”

Jaden lets go of Ash’s hand and runs up to the photographer before Ash can stop her, and tugs on his shirt.

“Hi, mister! Do you remember me?”

The photographer puts his camera down and regards Jaden with surprise. “Oh, hello! Yes, I think I do. How are you, little one?”

Jaden grins and points to the gap in her smile. “I lost a tooth the other day!”

The man looks alarmed. “Was it when—”

“No, no. I tied it to a door and slammed it.”

Well, _this_ she didn’t tell him. Ash and the man look equally horrified.

“Hey, Ash! Come over here and say hi! You were mean to him so you can say sorry now!”

Ash grumbles and stuffs a hand into his pocket, more irritable than usual. Stomach is empty again. “We need to get going, Jaden.”

“In a minute.” She brushes him off and tugs on the man’s arm. “That’s a really cool camera! But there are scratches on it. Did Ash do that when he was a clumsy dummy and bumped into you?” She shoots him a sly look, coupled with a grin. “Mami always taught _me_ to apologise.”

The man, catching on, just _folds his arms and waits expectantly._

Ash wants the entire river to dry up just so that this under-handed fucker can’t take photographs anymore.

“Fine.” Ash huffs. _“Sorry._ ”

Jaden gestures for him to continue. Ash melts under those eyes.

“…for bumping into you.”

With glee, Jaden claps her hands. “See? That wasn’t so hard! We gotta go mister, but it was nice seeing you again!” She grabs Ash’s hand and waves, pulling him along.

The man laughs, and Ash catches a sly, “nice seeing you again too, _Ash._ ”

Ash ignores the way his cheeks flush at how _low_ the man’s tone is.

* * *

“Ash.”

It takes a third attempt to get Ash’s attention. He blinks sleepily, hand still holding the pan as the fries’ sizzle in the oil, and quickly rubs them.

Delphine puts her hand on his back. “I appreciate you being here, but you look ready to fall over. Go home.”

“Can’t,” he says shortly.

Delphine shakes her head. “That wasn’t a question, boy. You’re going home and getting some rest. You’re too tired to work productively.”

“Del,” he pleads. “I _can’t._ ”

“Yes, you can. You’re going to put that apron away, and I’ll call you a cab. Then you’re going to go home to your daughter, and _sleep._ ”

_I can’t._

But, see, the thing with being tired is that it means Ash is too tired to argue. “Okay,” he says, hanging his head, defeated. “Okay.”

* * *

The release from work only granted him an extra hour of sleep before he had to go pick up Jaden. The car is still out of commission, and Ash can barely distinguish what’s real and what’s his mind screaming at him to pass out on the pavement and make the loose gravel his new duvet.

Jaden’s hand is one thing ground him, and she’s equally sluggish as she’s walking with him. At one point, she nearly keels over. He doesn’t have the energy to carry her.

“Well, if it isn’t the sensitive American!”

 _I do not need this._ Ash squints, seeing a familiar mop of midnight-black hair. “Sure.” He mumbles.

It must be something in his tone because all hints of amusement are gone from the photographer’s face. “Are… you both alright? You look exhausted.”

“Long day,” Ash clips, not willing to share anymore. “Gotta get this one home.”

“Do you need help? I could always—”

“No.”

Ash nearly pivots and collapses right then, but the last thing he’s gonna do is let this stupid, klutzy Japanese man see him in such a state. Ash doesn’t say anything further; Jaden doesn’t say anything at all, and they leave the man staring at them in disbelief.

* * *

The crying starts again, like clockwork, at eleven. Then at two, then at four, then at six, and then it’s time for school.

It takes half an hour to get Jaden to sleep every time, and Ash another half hour to fall back to sleep, before the process is repeated.

Each time, Jaden cries, saying she’s sorry.

“I’m _sorry_ , Ash,” she whines, twisting his hand in his shirt. “I’m trying to be good.”

Ash doesn’t have the energy to tell her it’s fine anymore. He's skipping meals again. Binge-eating bagels to pass the time.

 _It’s okay, it’s not your fault,_ and those words are on the tip of his tongue, and if he were a better father he’d find the energy to reassure his own kid, but at this point?

He’s so. Fucking. Tired.

* * *

Ash is tired, barely holding it together because of Jaden’s nightmares constantly interrupting his sleep schedule, but he goes to a meeting with Jaden’s teacher because it was a “pressing concern” and, dammit, he’s trying. He and Jaden are both trying.

They go through the usual bullshit – her grades are good, she’s nice but shy, and maybe there are activities at home she could try to build up confidence? It’s all standard academic bollocks, but Ash nods along like he’s listening to her advice.

“We’ve also noticed that Jaden seems to be very tired during class, especially lately. Is there anything going on at home that has been troubling her?”

Ash stiffens. “Her mom ain’t in the picture.”

“Yes, you said. I trust this was recent—”

“Maybe don’t go into detail when she’s playing in the sandbox.” Less playing and more napping, but Ash sways the conversation enough. “She has good hearing.”

“Right…” The teacher – Ash doesn’t give a shit what her name is – just tuts. “Well, it’s been affecting her focus in class. She’s getting rather snappy at people for keeping her awake, and the one incident she had when she slept in the nurse’s office caused her to lash out violently at a staff member.”

Ash glowers. “And you didn’t think to call me?”

Conveniently, the teacher side-steps _that_ little issue. 

“The point is, sir, is Jaden’s sleep deprivation is also extending to you. I can see how exhausted you are from here.”

Ash massages his temples. “Yeah.”

The teacher leans forward. “I will give you the number to a child therapist I am in contact with. We don’t have the budget to treat her here, but maybe—”

“A therapist?”

“Yes,” the teacher replies nonchalantly, and Ash’s blood _boils._ “It may do Jaden some good to talk through her trauma and get her fixed—”

“You saying there’s something _wrong_ with her?”

“Bluntly?” The teacher nods. “Yes.”

Ash stands up and clenches his fists. “I’m not having my kid analyzed by some fucking school-standard _shrink._ She’s not having her brain prodded and _poked_ just because you think there’s something defective about her.”

“I didn’t say—”

“Thanks for your time, but quite frankly, _fuck you._ ”

Ash marches out of there, fingers tingling until they go numb, dragging Jaden along with him.

* * *

_I can’t have fucked her up this badly already. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t be like Jim, like the old man. I can’tcan’tcan’tcan’t—_

Ash grabs onto the nearby railing and squeezes a hand over his heart. It feels like it’s convulsing. Everything is clammy. Sweat trickles down his back.

One breath in. One out. In out, in out, inoutinout— _in in in in in in—_

_Not now, not now, I can’t do this now—_

He’s gasping and drowning and maybe the water will help him breathe.

“Ash!” Jade’s voice calls out as she runs up to him, when did she get to his height? And oh, oh—

He’s falling to his knees and gasping for air.

_Outoutoutoutout—_

Shadows keep creeping in his head. In out in out, _regulate, regulate, control yourself you bastard._

“Ash…?” Jaden’s voice is full of fear. “What’s wrong? Does something hurt? I-I’m scared, I don’t know what to do, please don’t—”” Her hands are shaking as they reach out. “I need Mami—”

In out in out—

_Inininininin—_

_Someone please, help me._

Ash tries to swallow down the anxiety but it’s a hiss and he’s dying. He’s got to be dying. There’s no other explanation.

His lungs scream at him to breathe properly, and now he’s underwater and the air is shattered glass with jagged edges.

It cuts his throat. That has to be why he can’t talk.

White spots cloud his eyes.

Jaden’s screaming at him. Touching his shoulder—no, shaking it. Holding it so tight he could bleed.

It’s not enough.

His eyes roll back and he falls down and his head hurts.

_Jaden, I didn’t mean to fuck you up too—_

Everything fades.

_In, out._

* * *

Ash wakes up with a start, throwing the sheet off of him and breathing heavily. It takes him a moment to regain a rhythm of regular breathing, hand going up to his forehead to investigate the dull ache.

 _Didn’t hit it too hard. Must’ve knelt down before passing out._ Ash glances around. _How did I make it back to my apartment? Jaden couldn’t have carried me here—_

Dread lodges in his gut as he remembers Jaden. He scrambles for his gun, nearly tripping over the sheets in haste when he hears—

_“Ah, I do believe the sleeping lion has now awakened. Shall we go and see him?”_

Jaden’s little giggles fill the kitchen at the accented voice. Ash relaxes a little, faltering for a moment before putting the gun down.

_“He gets all grumpy in the mornings. You’d better let him come out or he may snap at you.”_

Ash feels his lips curling into a pout. He’s not _that_ bad.

Swallowing down any trepidation, Ash holds his hand out in front of his face and waits until it stops shaking like it’s known nothing but cold. Once it’s settled to an acceptable tremor, Ash pushes the bedroom door open.

“Good morning, Ash.”

Ash almost feels his face redden again at the sight of the klutzy Japanese photographer _grinning_ at him over a cup of green tea. Jaden’s sat next to him with an unfamiliar book of black-and-white photography, a few doughnuts half-nibbled, and she gives him a wave.

Ash raises his hand half-heartedly before makes his way to the fridge and pulls out the milk. “Fucking _swell_.” He grumbles, taking a swig.

“Swear jar.” Jaden chimes in, earning her a glare. Ash just pulls out a dime and tosses it to her.

Ash wipes his mouth with his sleeve and goes on to grab a bagel from the breadbin, opting not to put any butter on and eat it straight out of the plastic wrapping.

The Japanese photographer (how has he still not gotten his name?) just sips his fucking tea, sitting there like he owns the place, and Jaden is looking through his photographs like it’s a grade-school picture book.

“Jaden,” Ash says, “why don’t you go and play in your room for a bit?”

Jaden looks over her shoulder at him, deadpan. “Is that code for _time for grown-up talk?_ ”

“ _Yup_ ,” Ash says, pointedly popping on the ‘P’. “So, be good and scatter. You can take the doughnuts with you.”

 _“Score.”_ She swipes the plate and hops down from the chair. “Thanks for showing me your pictures, Eiji! They were really cool. Take more of dogs. You don’t have enough.”

 _Eiji_ laughs at her. “I will be sure to, just for you.”

 _Great,_ Ash thinks, _indulge the six-year-old that you barely know. That’ll make her so much more of a delight for me to deal with._

Once the door to her bedroom slams, Ash just takes a seat at the kitchen table and sets his head down. “She’s gonna be listening by the door, so keep your voice down.”

“Is she as nosy as you?”

Ash glares at him. “Don’t push it. Why are you even here?”

Eiji… seems a little taken aback. “You do not remember?” When Ash says nothing to that, Eiji continues explaining. “You had passed out by the riverfront yesterday afternoon. Jaden said something about you breathing very funny, but when I got to you, you refused to let me call an ambulance. Jaden seemed very hesitant as well, so I bought you back here and monitored you.”

“Makes sense.” Ash rubs a hand over his jaw, leaning up and resting his head on his hand. “Can’t afford ambulance bills right now.”

“I see.”

“Glad you’re seeing the wonders of the American Dream.” Something then clicks about Eiji’s explanation, and his head shoots up. “Wait, _yesterday_ afternoon? What time is it?”

Eiji blinks in surprise. “It is four-fifty in the afternoon.”

 _“Shit,_ I was supposed to take her to school today—”

“Oh, that. Do not worry, I took her to school today. She seemed to be in better spirits after coming home.”

Ash narrows his eyes. “You’re so weird. _”_

“And you, American, are very ungrateful.”

There’s shuffling coming from Jaden’s room, near the door. The light has been blocked out from underneath it. Silence swallows them whole, engulfs Ash, yet there are questions. Burning paranoia. Ash can judge people pretty well, so he needs to _know._

Needs Jaden to know who can be trusted.

(Something about Eiji screams that his paranoia, for once, is wrong.)

“The first time we spoke,” Ash begins, clearing his throat. “I was… snappy at you. I know it pissed you off.”

Eiji, at least, has the decency to flush. “I did not mean for your daughter to see my crass actions. I apologize for that.”

 _Daughter._ Ash feels the heat prickle in his face again. “She’s heard worse from me and her mother, trust me. Don’t worry about it.” Ash grabs his bagel and says before taking a bite, “hey, why do you keep taking photos of the river?”

Eiji seems to connect the dots pretty well and points to a logo on his photography book. “I work for _Mayfly Photography Studios._ I recently had a commission to take photographs of the river for a brochure. I was trying to get a good photograph with bird migrations overhead, hence the frequent visits.”

Ash can’t help but take a peek at some of the photographs. It’s of someone’s wedding. “Not bad,” he says before swallowing a bite of his bagel.

“I will take that a compliment?” Eiji laughs, closing up the book and putting it in his bag. “I apologise if you thought I was targeting you—”

“Is it a trait of you Japanese to keep apologising?” Ash puts down his food and grins, though it’s half-hearted. “It’s fine. I’m the one who’s sorry. I was just being an ass. Both times.”

Ash glances down at the table, at the scatterings of Jaden’s homework. “You didn’t have to help me, Eiji.”

“Your little girl was very scared for you.” Ash’s cheeks heat up again, rubbing the back of his neck. Eiji presses on, “she says there was nobody around that she could call to help you out?”

“Yeah.”

“If you do not mind me asking…” Eiji pauses; Ash figures he’s trying to figure out how to word the million-dollar question. “You have mentioned she has a mother. Yet you are here with Jaden, alone.”

Ash clenches his jaw. “Long story.”

“I understand.” Eiji puts his cup down and gently puts a hand on Ash’s shoulder, making him flinch in surprise. “You were very exhausted, Ash. It sounds like you were having a panic attack before you passed out.”

“I don’t…” Ash shrugs. “I don’t get them as often anymore. It was just a bad day.”

“Yet you were almost alone on a bad day. Jaden was crying when she found me, begging me to help you. You do not only exist for yourself, Ash.”

“You think I don’t fucking _know_ that?” Ash snaps, before recoiling and shaking his head. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap. I’m just—”

“Stressed?”

As a weight being lifted, his words are an exhale, “ _yes._ ”

“How long have you been raising her alone?”

It’s a roundabout question, a way to explain without explanations. Ash appreciates the gentle candor. He counts up the days in his head, before rounding it down. “Four months, now.”

“And you have had nobody to rely on.”

“Nobody I could call.”

“I see.”

Eiji takes his hand off of Ash’s shoulder; it’s kind of pathetic, but Ash almost _misses_ it. Not quite. Not hardly. But _almost._

It feels like Shorter, or Sing, or Charlie, but not quite. There’s something else there, something new and delicate. The closest Ash can compare it to is his older brother, Griffin, but then it’s coloured with something different. It makes Ash curl his toes under the table and shift in his seat.

For now, he tucks that piece of self-introspection away.

Instead of keeping his hand on Ash’s shoulder, Eiji goes to write something down on a piece of notepaper from Jaden’s little notebook. When Eiji tears it off and hands it to him, Ash sees that a phone number and an address has been scribbled down. 

“Now you do.”

Ash lifts his gaze, swimming with something he can’t quite put a name to.

“What?” Ash asks.

“I know we are not best friends, Ash, but if you need anything, you can call me,” Eiji clarifies, pointing to Jaden’s room. “You do not only exist for yourself, but I believe it would help both you and Jaden if you knew you were not alone here. And not just school mothers and fathers who believe you are, quote, _yummy._ ”

Ash flushes redder at that, hiding his eyes behind his hand. “Jaden told you about that?”

“Oh, she _complained_ very much about it. I believe she had much she needed to complain about, and this was a release for her.” Eiji grins at him, prying Ash’s hand away from his face. “Jaden is very much like you, Ash.”

Ash’s lips curl into a pout, but he’s fighting a smile down. _Jaden is like him._ When was the last time anyone ever said _that_ about Jaden?

To distract himself from his thrumming heart, Ash gives Eiji a once-over. “Did you sleep in those?”

Eiji’s clothes are embarrassingly rumpled, and Ash notices the bedhead makes Eiji’s hair look like a bird’s nest. He laughs, self-conscious. “It was a last-minute decision, but Jaden was having trouble resting, so I thought I would stay here until she was asleep, and… I fell instead.”

“Yeah, she’s… not been great for sleeping lately.” Ash gets up and goes over to the clean laundry bin, searching around. “Oi, Eiji, catch.”

The green plaid shirt and black sweats swat Eiji right in the face, staying stuck there. Ash barely resists laughing—no, that’s a lie, he _does_ laugh, and it only grows louder and brighter as Eiji pulls the clothes from his face and _pouts_ at Ash.

“You can borrow—fuck—” Ash takes a breath to stop himself from laughing. “You can borrow those. Keep them if you want.”

Without a word, Eiji swipes the clothes and stomps off to the bathroom. Ash follows his trail and laughs the moment the door slams.

He’s about to go back to his bagel when another door opens. Jaden’s leaning against the wall with a hooked brow, folding her arms. “What?” Ash asks, pausing mid-bite.

Jaden lets out a single snort. “Your flirting absolutely sucks.”

Red rushes to his cheeks. “I was not _flirting_ with him _.”_

Her hooked brow only raises higher. “Really? The whole _‘You can keep them if you want’_ isn’t a way for him to feel guilty and return them so you have an excuse to see him?” Jaden smirks wide, and Ash, for the first time, feels a shudder run up his arm. “Mami used to do that all the time to people she fancied. You’re no different, Pops.”

“Now _hold_ on a second, I wasn’t—” 

Then, he stops, cogs kicking in for that smart brain of Ash’s. His entire heart skips a beat, and he repeats the word in his head.

_Pops?_

Jaden, seemingly oblivious to the way the blood in Ash’s brain has drained, just waves her hand and goes back into her room with a grin. “If you say so.”

And just like that, the magic is left in the air, sending tingles through Ash’s arm. He stares at the photography book, at Jaden’s scattered homework, at the half-eaten bagel. The sounds of Jaden’s old television blasts some Japanese anime through the speakers; Eiji is getting changed in his bathroom, the water is running. Must be cleaning himself up a bit before heading back home.

Ash sees the number on the slip of paper, tucks it into his pocket, and leans back against the chair. The clock ticks on, the city buzzes below, and Ash closes his eyes.

The day can go on a little longer before he catches up.

* * *

The nightmares rip more screams from Jaden’s throat again. She’s tossing and turning and sweating, and before Ash knows it, the rhythm has started again. Jaden’s banging her head on the wall and kicking at the toys, hands going through her hair.

Ash waits until it’s a little quieter (he hears something smash against the wall), before he knocks on the door. He’s trying not to fall asleep sitting down on the floor.

“Jaden?”

There’s a shuffle. “Yeah?” She sniffs.

“Can I come in?”

Ash can tell she’s trying to kick whatever she broke underneath her bed. “I don’t want you to get mad at me for waking you again,” she mumbles shyly, and he can hear Jaden lean against her bedroom door. “Will you be mad?”

Ash sighs heavily. _All I’ve done is snap and get frustrated at you, isn’t it?_ His heart lurches, breaks, splinters, fractures. The pieces swim around in his blood, and his eyes are stinging from the jabs. “No.”

“Promise?”

“Pinky-promise.”

There’s a beat in time before the doorknob turns.

Jaden doesn’t let him into her room, but she crawls out on all fours and shuts the door. There are black marks underneath her eyes, her shirt is torn from where she’s ripped it, and she sits in front of Ash with shame colouring her cheeks red. Jaden hangs her head like she’s in trouble.

“I really did try, Pops.”

The way Jaden says that breaks his fucking heart. Her words are slurred, granted, but _fucking hell,_ he knows she did. Ash even got an hour of sleep before the screams tore him from slumber.

“I know,” he says simply because words aren’t quite his forte and he’s prone to fucking things up. “I know you did.”

Jaden doesn’t really say anything to that; she’s exhausted, curling up into a ball and leaning against the wall, yet her eyes refuse to close past a blink. That teacher is probably right about Jaden, he knows he needs to get her _some_ help. Jaden shouldn’t have to be like him, swallowing down all the trauma until she blows like a burst balloon.

This a childhood not yet completely screwed over. Maybe Ash can’t spare her all the pain, but he can give her ways to cope with it. Not be denied basic help.

Ash moves up to the wall and puts an arm around Jaden’s shoulders. “When I was younger,” he begins, giving her a gentle nudge. “I didn’t sleep very well either.”

“Did someone hurt your Mami?”

Ash shakes his head. “I didn’t know my Mami, and my Dad was…” The words need to be careful. Ash finds them eventually. “He wasn’t a very good one. Men like him shouldn’t be fathers. But I did have a big brother who looked after me, so he was more like what a Dad should have been.”

Jaden perks up. “I remember! Griffin, yeah?”

Ash swallows something thick forming in his throat; blinking fast. “Yeah. Whenever I didn’t sleep well, he’d pick me up and put me in his bed, and we’d watch the stars.”

Jaden scrunches her nose up. “New York didn’t let me see many stars.”

“That’s called light pollution and it _sucks._ ” Jaden’s little hum of agreement spurs Ash on. She twists her pudgy little hands in his shirt and his heart _sings._ “He’d tell me, _‘Aslan, there are no monsters in your closet, and no demons under your bed. But even in the dark when you think there are, there’s a star that will shine down and protect you. Night skies shield you, and the dawn will fight for you. Never forget._ ’”

“ _Whoah._ ” Jaden’s eyes widen with wonder. “He sounds so _cool._ ”

Ash can’t help it. He wipes a tear from his eye and smiles down at her. “He was the best. I wish you could have met him. Griffin would have _loved_ you.”

“He’s not around anymore?”

“He’s…” There are so many names, now, a list of the fallen. _Jennifer. Skipper. Griffin. Copper._ All of them a black mark, marring his splintering heart. “He’s with your Mami, in the stars. They’re watching over us, right now.”

“Angels,” Jaden nods, sniffing. “Gotta be angels. They told us about them in church.”

“Mmhm,” Ash wipes his eyes again, surprising himself when they don’t _stop._ “If there are angels, they look like Griffin and your Mami.”

Detroit isn’t much different from New York, really. The stars aren’t that visible past hazy clouds, though the streetlights on the river create a close-enough copy. Ash wonders if that’s what Eiji is trying to capture with that camera of his; maybe a delusion of grandeur, that this city is bigger than it actually is.

Ash prefers to think of it as Eiji trying to see an illusion of something grander than this city, with birds migrating over a glassy waterfront.

“Can…” Ash snaps out of his reverie to the sight of Jade playing with the hem of her pajama top’s sleeve. Her cheeks are bright pink. “Can you tell me more about Griffin?”

Ash’s eyes widen. _She doesn’t want to be alone._

It’s like Griffin is here, right now, coaching him on what to do. Ash puts one hand behind her back, the other underneath her knees, and gently lifts her up. “Jaden,” he says, and he sees the phantom of Griffin smiling at him. “Do you want to stay with me tonight?”

Jaden’s cheeks flush pinker. “That’s allowed?”

There are tears still falling down his face, Ash realises. It’s catching the light of the stars outside, falling onto his hands. Yet he can’t help but smile at her; Jaden stares at him and goes even pinker. “Always,” he tells her softly. “ _Always,_ Jaden.”

That night, Ash shares stories about his life in Cape Cod with Jaden. He tucks her in and lets her use his arm as a pillow, telling her everything; about the homemade presents Griffin would make for him; about the first time he tried to make pancakes for Shrove Tuesday. He laughs when she asks him about why they used to stick candles in oranges at Christmas and pouts when Jaden tells him she loves Jack ‘O Lanterns for Halloween.

Ash doesn’t tell her everything, of course. But there’s a wedge in the door that he tried to shut her out of.

He’s in the middle of another story when there’s a weight on his shoulder. Ash looks down and sees Jaden, little hands curled around him, fast asleep.

 _Is this what Griffin used to see, used to feel?_ He wonders as he stares down at her. _Did he feel like the world could burn, so long as they kept quiet for this sight? Is this how he felt?_

Ash sighs to himself. It’s weird; he feels peaceful. Content.

He brushes back Jaden’s hair and kisses her forehead, tucking her in, and flicking out the light. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a couple of notes;
> 
> \- Copper and Jaden are both Hispanic (specifically, Copper's family comes from Argentina), though Jaden is half-caucasian b/c of Ash. Whilst I will do my best to represent that fairly and accurately, I would like to point out that I am, in fact, British-White, and very far removed from the type of culture that a character like Copper or Jaden would have grown up in, and whilst I am researching and trying to avoid stereotypes and cliches and I won't be putting too much emphasis on their ethnicity, ANY commentary on this matter would be appreciated.  
> \- I'm also aware of "Fridging" - aka, killing off a woman for pain in a man's narrative. I'm trying to alleviate this by the focus of Copper's passing affecting Jaden, her daughter, rather than what it's done to Ash. There is also no romantic nature to Ash and Copper's relationship, bar a brief affair when they were 16 that resulted in Jaden's conception. Copper is an incarnation of Ash's 14-year-old crush that was briefly mentioned in the anime and manga. She's also got a bigger role to play than what's lain out here, so keep an eye out. :)  
> \- I'm pretty much naming every chapter after songs I was blasting on repeat during writing. "Watching for Comets" by Skillet was the choice for this one. Honestly, Skillet is such a Banana Fish mood.  
> \- Jaden's full name is "Jaden Alba Garcia". She was born when Ash and Copper were 17. More about the circumstances will be revealed later. :)


	2. toll the silver iterance

Eiji Okumura is one snapped ankle into adulthood when a single phone call clicks his current path into place.

He’s sitting in his family’s back garden, underneath the apple tree on the swing with fraying ropes, watching his bandaged foot remain stationary as he swings. Eiji’s crutches lay next to him, covered in fallen red leaves, unused, unacknowledged.

“Oi, Eiji!” His little sister, four years his junior – Kaori – shouts to him from the kitchen. She wears a faded band shirt with her hair up in a messy bun; her nails painted blue. She’s scowling at him from the doorway. “You have a phone call! Get your butt over here and answer it!”

Eiji perks up a little. “Who is it?”

“It is Ibe-san. He wants to talk to you about something.” Kaori rolls her eyes and tosses him the phone instead. “I am not your maid, so answer him yourself.”

_Brat._

Eiji presses the phone to his ear just as she slams the door to the family home closed, and suddenly the wind picks up; the leaves on his crutches liftoff, and they’re trailing down a path covered in the autumn mist.

So, that’s how it begins.

One year and several tearful goodbyes to his family later (Kaori thrusts a handmade love charm into his hand, and furiously rubs her eyes before running off. He can’t chase after her this time. He lets her go.), he is on a plane to America to work as Shunichi Ibe’s assistant for the _New York Sense_ journalism magazine.

The subpar plane food and mistranslated subtitles on the movie playing out in front of him on a dimmed screen isn’t enough to quell the excitement that, this time, his life could _go_ somewhere.

Pole-vaulting feels like a distant, disappointing memory.

Fate brings hope inside his heart, and Eiji is nineteen years old, in a foreign country with barely passable English, and sleeping on Ibe’s spare couch in his crappy New York studio apartment.

“I’m sorry it isn’t much,” Ibe has the decency to look sheepish, at least. Eiji says very little on the teenage disappointment that still lingers in him. “We thought we could get you your own apartment, but truthfully my own wages are hardly enough to cover this place.”

“I am grateful for this, Ibe-san. Thank you.”

The call of independence will have to wait. For now, it seems, Eiji is still dependent on others, so he bows to Ibe as a sign of respect, and life carries on.

* * *

Eiji’s father always warned him that America would be dangerous.

“I want you to truly think of the danger you are putting yourself in, Eiji,” he would say, reading the newspaper whilst laying in that hospital bed. “They are not like Japan. Children cannot just walk and expect neighbors to be friendly on the first approach.”

And, Eiji supposes, he understands to a degree. His father may be sick, but he is also world-weary, having traveled to America in his own youth.

Eiji bows a little. “I understand,” he says with conviction, “but I am still going, Tou-san.”

The sound of his father’s laughter has him looking up in surprise, and even moreso when he meets his father's glassy gaze. “When did you grow up so fast? What did I _miss,_ Eiji?”

 _Everything,_ Eiji thinks bitterly, and the tears form in his eyes. _You missed everything, being so sick you disconnected from your own family._

And it seems despite the warnings, _New York Sense_ sends him right into the danger with Ibe with the assignments placed on his desk the next morning. It’s in the form of a polite, white envelope, and overhearing Ibe’s argument with the superiors about sending Eiji into danger there during lunch.

Ibe comes out ten minutes later, rubbing his chin and slumping onto his office chair.

“It’s two interviews that we’ve been instructed to do, Ei-chan,” Ibe explains over coffee (he’s reminded of Kaori, and his heart twists at the last memory of her tearfully calling him a bastard), resigned to the fact that Eiji is coming along.

“One is with a girl who grew up in a neighborhood surrounded by gangs, and the other is with a local gang leader. Charlie is assisting us with protection, so we will be perfectly safe.”

Eiji has to scowl a little at the name, hiding it behind sipping his coffee. _The same man that assumed I was your son. I am sure he and Mr. Jenkins will be a_ wonderful _pleasure to work with again._

Ibe catches on and laughs. “Don’t worry, Ei-chan. He’s learned from the last slip-up.”

 _He’d better have._ Eiji curses something quiet in Japanese – just rude enough so that Ibe chokes a little on his coffee, but polite enough that it doesn’t make the older man flush – and takes a sip.

“When do we leave?”

Turns out, literally after lunch that same day.

Ibe had known about the assignment for a while, but the girl in question had been rather hesitant about accepting – she was a careful one, Ibe tells him, as well as quite blunt in character.

“If she is that way, why did you agree to be interviewed at all?”

Ibe drums his hands on the car wheel as he pulls to a stop at a red light. “It’s more that she agreed for _me_ to do it. She said I was the first journalist that came to her that didn’t seem like I was sniffing for just a paycheque.”

Eiji lifts his gaze from the window and narrows his eyes; the sparrow that had been in his field of vision disappears into the rain. “Have many people tried to interview her?”

“As far as I know,” he replies as the engine runs again, turning a corner. “She read about me in _New York Sense_ a few months ago, when I did a piece on the shelter she was staying at _._ Maybe she saw something about how I write that intrigued her.”

Eiji hums but says nothing more and goes back to looking out of the window. He tries to find that little bird again, but the sparrow is lost to the New York monsoon.

They arrive at _St. Mary’s House_ twenty minutes later. Eiji’s not sure what he expects when Ibe pulls but, but he chooses to stay quiet as they write their names in the registry book at the front of the office, purses his lips as he sees the various women around the shelter nursing. They look at him and Ibe with trepidation, some with haunted eyes. Others look distant as children cry.

 _How can this be a place to raise children?_ Eiji feels his heartbreak. _It feels like these girls were abandoned here._

One of the workers – Claire, Eiji thinks her name tag reads – leads them to a room right at the back of the complex. They pass by the kitchens, the garden, the laundry rooms. More life is breathed into people the longer he walks, but his heart still twists at the lack of a _home_ here.

Claire knocks on the door. “Penelope? Mr. Ibe and his assistant are here to see you now for the interview. Is this still a good time?”

The sound of a television blurting out what Eiji can _only_ assume is Spanish is suddenly muted, before the door creaks open. A girl stands there, with messy dark hair tied up in a bun and tired eyes, baby on her hip.

Her dark brown eyes lock onto Ibe, and she manages a smile. “Nice to see you again, Ibe. And—” She looks at him. “Eiji, right? Ibe’s spoke about you.”

Eiji bows a little. “It is nice to meet you.”

“Damn.” Penelope raises a scarred brow at him, smile quirking at her lips. “Didn’t know I was suddenly royalty.”

Eiji flushes and quickly straightens up.

“No, no, I like it. I was hoping to put this little one to bed first,” Penelope says as bounces the drowsy child on her hip. “So, if you don’t mind the interruptions, now’s as good as any.”

“That’s perfectly fine, Penelope. Thank you for agreeing to do this.” Penelope stands aside to let them both in, going over to the small kitchenette and preparing some formula for her child.

Eiji takes off his shoes and places them in a pair next to Ibe’s. _She looks younger than me._

The interview goes about as expected, the same as any Eiji has ever witnessed Ibe doing… yet there’s something else to it. It reminds Eiji of when Ibe first met him back in Japan when his pole-vaulting career hadn’t ended with the sound of a snapped ankle and a fractured pelvis. He coaxes out questions gently, matches Penelope’s quick-witted banter with his own light-heartedness, a side that Eiji wishes Ibe would show more often.

Penelope’s story… is censored. That is the only way Eiji can describe it. She talks of her childhood – of growing up in Argentina and immigrating with her parents for the hopes of a better life in America, of her struggles learning English and her joys in learning to play the violin.

Penelope had always wanted to be a musician. Her father owned a florist, used to do corsages for proms at relatively cheaper prices. Her mother worked at a diner but had an amazing singing voice and would lull her to sleep every night.

Her face twists into sorrow as she recounts the memory of a corrupt police officer that shot her father dead in front of his flower shop and got off, as she puts it, _“scott-free”._ Her eyes go glassy as she remembers her mother’s scream over the news of her father’s death.

There’s an underlying trauma there that Eiji doesn’t comment on as he takes pictures of her back, face veiled in shadow.

But she holds back a little, on what happened after her father died. She ended up on the streets somehow, young and alone and frightened. Penelope doesn’t mention her mother after remembering her heartbroken scream, and he cannot bring himself to ask. Neither can Ibe.

Penelope mentions street gangs. The kids like her, or unlike her, who take up guns to solve problems and to keep safe. She rants, chides, _laments_ over the drug runs she was a part of, the crowds she ran with who stole from people just to afford food and using to learn a knife so people wouldn’t expect sexual favours from her.

But there’s more, and Penelope doesn’t whisper it to them. The questions from Ibe are pointed, her reactions blunt.

Her little one screams for the third time, and Penelope slumps against the sofa. “ _Mi cielito,_ please–”

“We can take a break if you want,” Ibe says gently, but jerks back a little when Penelope begins to shake her head.

“You cannot take a break from a child being sick. She needs rocking again, I can—” The child screams again as Penelope tries to rock her and prepare her formula, and something in Eiji breaks when he sees how the girl, younger than him and a _mother_ , almost _sobs._ “Mi cielito, my love, _please_ be patient, I am trying—”

Eiji’s words fly from his mouth before he gets the chance to stop himself. “Would you like me to hold her whilst you prepare it?”

There’s quiet; the kettle boils.

Penelope stares at Eiji like he’s offered her solid gold. “… _Would_ you?” She croaks.

Eiji nods, and then suddenly, he’s gifted with an armful of a crying, snotty baby, eyes squeezed shut, and—

(He’s back to being 4 years old, meeting his little sister for the first time after she came out of the hospital, propped up on a couch and a pillow acting as a buffer between his lap and the weird, red baby.

 _“Meet Kaori,”_ his mother had cooed, _“she’s your new little sister._ ”)

Eiji cradles the back of this little one’s head and sits down on the kitchen chair, gently rocking back-and-forth. The screams keep up for only a few seconds; something about his hushed counting in Japanese seems to be working.

Big, green eyes stare up at him. When she starts to stir again, a song from his own childhood flows from his mouth. The lyrics would be childish in English, _Dango Daikazoku,_ but this little one seems to enjoy it.

Once the slumbers start, Penelope comes over with a grin on her face. It’s too childish to belong to a _mother._

“Wow,” she murmurs, brushing a finger against her child’s cheek. “She’s not usually like this with strangers. Takes after me, I guess.”

Eiji watches how much love Penelope regards her child with. Sees how tired she is. Sees how much of herself she pours into this.

“You are working very hard,” he concludes. “To raise her right.”

Penelope stares at him again, and she swallows. “I’m… trying, that’s for sure,” she counters, but she’s fighting a smile. “It’s hard work, raising her in a place like this. But she’s worth it.”

“She is a beautiful child. I do not think I have ever seen eyes that green on anyone before.”

Penelope’s gaze goes back to her child. “She gets them from her father.”

“Is he…?”

“Contrary to the stereotype, he _is_ around. We aren’t together or anything – God save me, that ended after three months. Wouldn’t have worked,” Penelope clarifies as she takes her daughter back into her arms. “But he’s… he’s good. My best friend. He sees her every weekend.”

Eiji reaches up and ruffles the baby’s small tuft of brown hair. He’s taken back to that moment with Kaori, except now his entire hand could cradle this child’s head, and he can’t help but smile as he feels his heart warm.

“That name you called her earlier. What does it mean?”

“ _Mi cielito?”_

“Mm.”

Penelope sits down on the kitchen chair and covers her daughter with a blanket. Bundles her up to keep the cold from snatching any warmth away. She gazes at her daughter like she is cradling sunlight.

“My sky,” she tells Eiji. “It means _my sky._ Because she is limitless.”

Eiji and Ibe leave the apartment twenty minutes later, as Penelope and her child fall into slumber, side-by-side. They leave quietly, writing her a note that maybe, one day soon, they can continue the interview, but the material they had was plenty.

There’s silence as they both sign out in the visitor’s book. It carries on as Ibe gets back into the car, Eiji opting to go in the back seat, and begins the long drive back to the offices.

“Sometimes, Ei-chan,” Ibe says, but it doesn’t draw Eiji out of his reverie. “The way you connect with people is chilling.”

Eiji isn’t listening.

He’s looking for that sparrow, lost in the rain, and hoping that it makes it home.

* * *

Six weeks later, Eiji finds himself waking up in a hospital bed with no memory of what occurred, Ibe by his bedside looking disheveled and anxious. There’s an agonizing pain in Eiji’s left leg, and stitches in his right arm. Part of his head is shaved, and he feels the surgical tape.

The truth about what happened comes to him, piece by piece, in whispers and police reports and overheard conversations. Ibe and he had been at the bar, about to conduct the interview with the supposed gang leader, when a violent fight had suddenly broken out. Something to do with a rival gang.

Eiji had ended up in a confrontation, cornered in an alleyway before managing to get away and call the police. A young boy had been killed in the chaos.

Nobody can explain the broken leg. His shattered ankle now has a metal plate screwed into it. Eiji is too tired to care.

“Not again, Ei-chan,” Ibe swears, gripping his hand like it’s a literal lifeline; should he let go, Eiji will perish. So, Eiji lets Ibe hold on for a bit longer. “I’ve told the people at _New York Sense_ to go and fuck themselves. They knew the dangers of insisting you go with me. They’re paying us off so that we don’t take them to court.”

Eiji blinks sleepily. “Paying you off?”

“I threatened to sue them for all they were worth.”

He sits up, straightening his back. “But you _loved_ that job, Ibe-san. You worked for years to get it. You didn’t need to give it up for me—”

“I _got_ that job because of you in the first place, Eiji.” Ibe shakes his head, taking a deep breath. “Now, I’ve got enough money that I can finally repay you for that.”

Just as he’s about to ask for further details, Ibe sways that off course by placing a listing in front of him for an empty office building. Eiji picks it up and looks back at Ibe with confusion, furrowing his brows. “What is this for?”

“It’s an empty office in Detroit. A fully equipped photography studio and I’ve just bought it out. I’m going independent.” Ibe hands him a pen and paper. “I want you to be my official partner in this, Eiji, for as long as you are willing to stay here. Name your percentage.”

And that evening, Eiji officially says _sayonara_ to New York, bids _farewell_ to whatever life could have happened should he have blossomed in that concrete jungle.

In another life.

_Sayonara, New York._

* * *

Eiji's eyes open thirty minutes before his alarm is due to sound off, dragging himself out of bed to the bathroom. Like clockwork, he’s brushing his teeth and washing his face browsing through his planner for the day, freshening up.

Like usual, he pushes up his long hair and sighs at the surgical scar that never seems to fade.

Eiji lingers there a moment before going over to the kitchen and putting the kettle on.

Outside, the sparrows chirp their little morning song. They’ve taken up quite a nice spot on a neighboring balcony (the apartment is empty; sadly, Mrs. Redwood moved into her daughter’s house last year), and Eiji can enjoy a good morning cup of jasmine tea to the sound of their calls to Detroit.

Six years and not much has changed. He’s still in the same apartment he moved in last year. The flowers on his balcony wither with the approaching winter.

Detroit is still slow to wake in this area, but quick to remind him that this is not Izumo. It is busy and spread-out, and most of his neighbors keep to themselves, but there is an economical kindness that is slowly branching out to blossom, and Eiji has his niche circle of friends and peers. Downtown is getting busier these days.

Eiji sips his tea, the steam fogging up his glasses.

He pauses when he sees a familiar name pop up on his phone, calling him. Eiji rolls his eyes, presses to answer, and answers in very blunt Japanese, “what?”

 _“Wow, Eiji. I so very am happy to hear from you, too._ ” Kaori’s voice laments, and he can practically _feel_ the pout through the speakers. _“Why must you be so rude to me?”_

“Perhaps due to you hanging up on me last time?” Eiji puts his cup of tea down and makes his way to the balcony, enjoying the morning air. He takes a deep breath.

Kaori huffs. _“That was only because you refused to allow me to get a cat!”_

“You will not get a cat whilst Buddy is living with you!” Eiji grits his teeth. “He was already traumatized enough when your _friends_ bought that feral beast around—”

“ _That ‘feral beast’ has a name, Eiji! It is Ringo!”_

“—and I will not have you subjecting _my dog_ to any more of it!”

There’s a very, very long, drawn-out sigh. Eiji groans internally. _So dramatic._

_“I pity any child you have, Eiji.”_

“You are already enough of a baby. I do not think I need to raise any other humans.” Kaori’s offended sputter is enough to get him to smile; he drops the subject for the moment. “So, why did you call? You never call me unless you want something.”

Kaori goes quiet on the other end.

Eiji can already feel the bitter taste in his mouth when he asks, “Kaori, did Kaa-san ask you to talk to me again?”

There’s a shuffle on the other line, and he can hear a faint scratching of a fingernail against the wood. _“…she did. Sorry. I know you asked me not to be in the middle of you two again, but she was crying about Tou-san.”_

Kaori stops scratching, and the sound of her foot thumping against the floor is enough for Eiji to realise the gravity of her guilt. Eiji feels his heart squeeze in his chest when she replies with a quiet, _“I know why you do not want to talk to her, but she wanted us both to be there for Tou-san’s memorial anniversary.”_

Eiji rubs the back of his neck. “I’m sorry you were put in that position. That wasn’t fair.”

 _“I know._ ” Kaori swallows. “ _I am going to visit her later on next year. Will you be, too?”_

“I…” Eiji trails off, pursing his lips and staring out at the jungle of Detroit.

He’s about to fumble with something, _anything_ when Kaori cuts him off. _“You do not need to answer that, Eiji. I understand why you do not want to see Kaa-san. Just… if you even consider going, maybe it can just be for us two?”_

“Maybe,” he says, but it is more of a resigned whisper.

 _“Okay.”_ He can _feel_ the disappointment coming from his little sister through the deep-seated static. _“Okay.”_

In the morning air, the birds begin to rise up from their shelters in the tree groves. Cars make the roads tremble; and the wind beckons Eiji to spread his clipped, phantom wings once more. He rises from his chair.

“I have to go to work now, Kaori.” For a moment, he pretends she is the same teenager he left in Izumo, red-eyed and snotty and swearing at him, and smiles. “Look after yourself, okay?”

_“Same to you, Eiji.”_

Eiji’s out of the door mere moments after slipping his phone into the pocket of his coat. He walks down the stairs whilst tying up his hair into a messy ponytail, tucking any stray hairs behind a headband, pulling out his car keys, and then he’s driving into the Detroit morning like any other commuter.

It’s a recent commission job. A client, wanting to advertise parts of Detroit, wants a specific backdrop of the river with bird migrations. It aligned better with Eiji’s schedule and, as Ibe puts it, unnatural affinity in getting up before the sun. He’s been here for the better part of the week, scoping out a spot that was perfect.

He sets up his usual scene near the river, a gaze away from a bunch of tall apartments, and begins to adjust his new camera settings. Eiji sits on the floor and puts a pen between his lips, flipping through his notebook on the specifications Ibe wrote down – the camera had been a gift for him on the last job he did.

Eiji is around twenty photographs into his session when something crawls up his back. He realises, belatedly, that he’s being _watched._

Putting his camera aside, he glances around at the river, at the nearby roads, but it’s mostly deserted – and those that walk nearby don’t care for him, they’ve most likely seen him around. 

It’s when he looks up at the sky, that he feels the eyes on him is coming from one of the towering apartments.

There’s a man in a window – may be older than Eiji? – with golden hair and the scruff of a beard, scowling down at him. When Eiji looks at him and meets his gaze, he turns away with what Eiji can only assume is a _huff._

Eiji narrows his eyes and goes back to his shoot.

_What a grumpy old man._

* * *

Sometimes, life likes to give Eiji some unpleasant reminders that he’s no longer able to fly with a shattered ankle and a metal plate and pins screwed into his bones; he’s just hobbling away from his problems, hiding behind a camera to idealize his situation. The pictures are pretty. You can edit those.

You can fix up the glaring imperfections.

It’s pathetic, really: he’s 25 years old and shaking over a letter from his mother. There’s a small pile of them growing near a large number of boxes for his depleting supply of T-hormones. All of the envelopes are unopened. They must be as tall as his kettle.

But – this one.

_To Eiji._

She’s never used that name for him before.

Eiji knows he shouldn’t give in and open it. He knows that she deserves to be stuffed into that little box of emotional turmoil, that baggage he’s not been ready to address for seven years.

There’s a sharp swear as he tears the envelope open and stares at the familiar scrawl – in English.

_Eiji,_

Eiji swallows hard.

_Kaori tells me you are still working with Ibe-san. I hope you are doing well there – she does not tell me further. Do not be mad at her for this._

As if he ever could. Kaori is many things, but he understands why she caves to his mother’s concern the way she does. Kagura Okumura is ridiculously sentimental; it is only natural that Kaori inherits it with caving, Eiji with his recklessness. His mother’s English is formal and unnatural and janky, not like the Detroit accent that’s curled over his Japanese over the past near-decade.

It sounds just like her.

_I have made many mistakes with you. I did not understand – I was worried that you were throwing your life away. That if you were stronger, you could overcome what I thought was sickness. I never considered that pushing your emotions down was what really made you suffer._

_It was my fault. I did not try to understand._

Eiji’s hands tremble, and he imagines each of the letters falling off the sides of the paper.

_I failed you. I was not a mother to you. You deserved much better._

_But you have made your way to America despite the hurt. You have found new passions, new loves, a new path. It made your father proud. It makes me proud. I hope I still have the permission to feel that for you._

_My Eiji. My son._

The rest of the words are blurry; his glasses fog up; he wipes his eyes.

He carries on with the last sentence.

_Wherever you go, know that I understand that you were right. I will always have a home for you to return to._

_I am so sorry, my Eiji._

His mother has signed her name in kanji at the bottom of the letter.

Eiji throws the letter on the couch and leans back, dragging his hands through his hair until it tangles, pulls, a few strands ripped out. He breathes heavy like he’s just run a marathon (unlikely, given his shattered ankle still giving him trouble), and –

The alarm sounds. It’s the old _Nori Nori_ theme song, an anime from when he was a child. His mother once found a costume and he spent a week in it. He cried when it needed washing.

Eiji curses and stuffs his laptop and camera into his bag and makes for the bus stop, not willing to drive in this state. He can’t. There have been enough crashes in his family.

The bus ride is only 8 minutes, 30 seconds. There’s a small traffic delay – someone turned a wrong corner, there was shouting and swearing, but its muted by the sound of his own breathing. Fucking idiot, forgetting his earphones. Eiji leans against the cool glass and closes his eyes, an idyll ruined by the bumpy roads, but for now, it is enough. It distracts his head

He’s by the river in moments, setting up his camera, snapping pictures.

_Click, click, click._

There’s something off about the angle. Eiji hates it. He hates the river and the sky and the overcast clouds that ruin the last catches of summer. Izumo had nice summers that lasted until they were supposed to, but now its ruined.

_Click, click, click._

Everything is ruined.

_Click, click, click._

Eiji scowls and takes a few steps back and raises his camera again and –

_“Dammit!”_

Twisting around in surprise, he sees a large shadow trip over a piece of upturned pavement. Eiji’s instinct is to drop his camera and try to steady whoever it is falling, but of _course,_ his ankle gives out the second he doesn’t prepare for it and they’re both sent tumbling to the ground.

Eiji narrows his eyes – fairly certain he’s seen that face before until curiousity fades when his daughter points over at Eiji and tells the man to _mother him._

“It is alright!” Eiji blusters, colour flushing to his cheeks and _praying_ that his scarf is still hiding it well. “I am fine. There is no need to worry. Are you,” he clears his throat and scrambles to stand back up, slightly wobbling. “Are you two alright?”

The man fixes a pointed glare Eiji’s way. “We’re fine. Can’t you watch where you’re going?”

His daughter gasps and hits her father’s shoulder. “ _Ash!”_

 _You have got to be kidding me._ As if this day couldn’t get any more perfect, he’s got to deal with an insufferable, hot American _bastard_.

No, he’s not hot. That scruff of a beard makes him look like a fossil. A stupid, aged, gorgeous fossil.

_Oh, fuck you, Eiji Okumura._

Eiji feels himself prickling. “ _Excuse_ me?”

“You heard me, _klutz.”_

The man’s daughter flits between the two men nervously, shrinking behind her father’s leg. Eiji isn’t sure what the _hell_ is transpiring between them – he may lack height, but Eiji’s fists do clench and shake as this man stares him down, electricity in the air making the hairs on Eiji’s arms stand on end.

This lasts until the moment is broken with a scoff from the other man.

“We don’t have time for this.” He picks his daughter back up and onto his back – she, at least, has the decency to look sheepish – and throws Eiji another narrowed-eyed look. “Look where you’re going, next time.”

Eiji can’t help it as the two begin to run off. There’s a coil in his belly that’s twisting from the anger and – well, he’s not sure. But he’s pissed.

He quells any verbal expletives and sticks his middle finger right up at the man’s retreating back. Eiji is mortified when instead, it is the man’s _daughter_ who is the one who turns around and sees him.

Eiji slumps back against the railing and dusts off the now-scratched camera. There is creature comfort, one that isn’t stopping the innate, primal urge to dash for home and hide under his bed, but it is enough to give him some relief.

_At least you will never see them again._

* * *

Eiji sees the two of them _everywhere._

The universe hates him. It _has_ to be cosmic intervention.

There’s a God and its target is playing with Eiji Okumura.

And – maybe it is logically possible that Eiji would see the two again. If they were dashing somewhere that first fateful morning, it figures they live in walking distance of the riverfront where Eiji frequents for this one _stupid_ assignment. He would spy them occasionally, running in the mornings to what Eiji can only assume to the man – Ash’s – daughter’s school. It’s early enough to safely speculate that.

But there are other places that Eiji spots them. Not often, but they crop up enough that he – he can’t quite shake them from his mind.

He sees the little girl on trips with her class, trailing behind the rest of her peers and clutching a stuffed toy rabbit with one arm. He sees her kicking her feet in the children’s section of the library, devouring texts he _knows_ are far-above her age range.

Ash works in a local diner. Eiji pops his head in to grab a to-go coffee last week, and sees a familiar mop of golden hair, pushed back with bobby pins in the back of the kitchen. Eiji’s ashamed to say that his ankle almost gave out the way he dashed out of there that day. 

And then one day, the little girl – Jaden, he learns her name is – gets Ash to come up and _apologise_ to him. That does… strange things to Eiji’s heart.

Together, Ash is always running with his daughter on his back. The times Eiji lingers at the riverfront in the evenings instead, he’s walking with his daughter instead. One time they had an entire bag of books. Eiji almost laughed over the way Ash seemed to _pout_ over his daughter’s distaste for _The Catcher in The Rye._

Eiji’s snapping pictures of the evening sky when that happens, when the voices fill the air. They’re on the other side of the road, hand-in-hand, and there’s a shrill, _childish_ protest.

“Ash, Holden was such a _butt!”_

Eiji almost _chokes_ at that, slapping a hand over his mouth and looking over his shoulder. He sees Ash and his daughter stopping for a moment and –

Ash is _pouting._

“That’s the _point_ , kid. He’s supposed to be a bratty teenager who thinks he’s above everyone, because of the things he’s had to go through. There’s more to him.” He _holds up the book_ and gestures to it. “It’s what makes the last moment with Phoebe huge to his character!”

“But he’s still a _butt_ to everyone else! And he’s all smart-talk but he does dumb stuff.” Jaden fixes Ash an _adorable_ glare and folds her arms. “The book is mega-dumb.”

Ash is a fully-grown man, who is raising a child. And he _pouts_ at a little girl’s opinion to, what Eiji can only assume, is his favourite book.

“It is _not_ dumb,” Ash insists. “It’s just above your age range.”

Jaden rises to the challenge. “Is _so._ ”

Eiji presses his hand to his mouth like a vice to stop himself from laughing. _She’s baiting you, Ash. Do not fall prey to it—_

“It is _not._ ”

“Is _so._ ”

This carries on for a few more seconds until Eiji’s hand slips and he _bursts_ out laughing. It’s only a quick laugh, but it echoes and scares a few sparrows mingling by the benches parked up near the waterfront, and Eiji slaps a hand over his mouth again. His back is ramrod straight, skin feeling electric—

“Hello, Mister! You’re taking more pictures again?”

Eiji chances a look back. Jaden is waving at him by her father’s side, beaming with that gap in her teeth. Eiji still can’t help but feel guilty over that, despite knowing he’s not at fault and the bump didn’t even cause the tooth to fall out. It must have loosened it.

(Despite what her stupidly attractive father has to say about it, it was not Eiji’s fault.)

Ash is _glaring_ at him, hands in his pockets and only sparing Eiji passing glances. He begins to bounce on his feet.

_What an odd man._

Sheepishly, Eiji holds up his camera. It’s brand new, rather shiny. “I am, yes.”

“Is it more of the river?”

Eiji nods, before pointing at the flock of sparrows that mingle at his feet. “And the birds. This is the closest they’ve ever been to me.”

“Cool.” Jaden tugs at Ash’s trousers. “Ash, come on, be _nice._ Say hi!”

Eiji lets his camera fall back against his chest as he watches Ash get a bit squirmy and awkward. He can see how Ash’s toes curls in his shoes and make them bunch up, before he glares over at Eiji, stroking that stubbled chin. “… _Hi_.”

 _You don’t need to treat a simple greeting like it’s chewing glass. What an absolute grump._ Eiji puts his hands into his pockets and narrows his eyes. “Hello.”

Ash doesn’t seem impressed with the curt greeting Eiji offers.

 _Oh, to hell with it_. This man already seems to hate Eiji’s guts. He may as well indulge his only ally here. “Sorry to overhear your conversation and to laugh. It was rude for me to listen in.”

“True,” Ash pipes up. Jaden bats his leg.

“Be _nice._ ” Jaden insists, waggling a finger at Ash. “This is why you have no friends, Ash.”

Another unattractive snort comes from Eiji. He can’t even care how Ash glares at him again.

“Now, now.” Eiji leans back against the railing. “You shouldn’t hit your father like that, little one. He was only being truthful.”

Ash’s eyes widen from what Eiji can only assume is a surprise. Eiji isn’t sure why, but it endears him.

So, naturally, Eiji is about to shatter that.

“Just as you were being truthful that Holden Caulfield _is_ an absolute butt and the book is _very, very_ dumb.”

The vindication that crosses that little girl’s face will stay with Eiji for a _lifetime,_ as will the way Ash seems to feel utterly _betrayed._

__

“Ei-chan, how is the editing on the brochure pictures coming along?”

Eiji snaps out of his daydream and clicks his neck as he leans back in his chair, letting the screen of his computer leave his eyesight as he looks over at Ibe standing there with two cups in his hand, offering Eiji the one with the familiar scent of chamomile.

After he takes a sip, Eiji grimaces. “The client is very insistent on a certain vision. One of those eccentric artistic types. I must have visited the riverfront at least four times a week in the past few months.” Eiji throws his hands up. “Nothing I photograph satisfies him. I did not know the luck of romantic successes would also translate to _clientele_ now.”

“Ah,” Ibe tuts in sympathy, pulling up the chair beside him. He knows _all about_ Eiji’s romantic woes – namely, the non-existence of it, the failures. “They weren’t satisfied with these?”

Eiji shakes his head and leans back on his chair. “I understand this is important to them, as well as appreciate the extra compensation, but sometimes I wish there was a limit on _pickiness._ ” 

“You can drop them if you prefer. There is such a thing as a limit.”

Eiji hesitates. Should Ibe have asked before, Eiji… may have been willing. But there’s… something drawing him back. A red string, tugging him.

“No,” Eji decides, shaking his head. “No, I am sure it will be fine. I am determined to get this right.”

“Eiji…”

Eiji pats Ibe’s shoulder. “I will give them to the end of this month to be settled on a photograph. If there is no change, I will drop them. And I will admit,” Eiji shrugs with a grin. “I am enjoying the location, too.”

* * *

The bridge by the riverfront isn’t just a place for work now. Eiji finds that the sound of the water, the sparrows flying overhead, the mild traffic of people and cars milling around – it’s come to be a source of calm. He _likes_ snapping photographs of the autumn sunrises and darkening afternoons.

It almost reminds him of Izumo. It’s not the land of the Gods, but Detroit knows there’s real energy of people trying to survive. If God's walk in Detroit, Eiji’s sure they’re nameless for a reason. 

He sits there, by the river, takes a deep breath, before answering his phone. “Hello?”

_“Are we talking in English, now?”_

Eiji leans against the railing and chuckles, switching to Japanese. “Is this better, brat?”

“ _Much_ ,” Kaori clips back. “ _Are you busy?”_

“No.” Eiji shifts so that there’s less pressure on his ankle. “Is there something you want to talk about?”

Kaori is quiet on the other end for a while. _“Akira and I broke up last night.”_

 _This_ does surprise Eiji. He sits up with wide eyes, holding his phone with the other hand. Akira had been Kaori’s girlfriend for at _least_ a year – and from what Kaori had been willing to share, it had been going fantastic. “What happened?”

 _“We are still friends, I think.”_ There’s something being jammed and dragged – she’s got the tub of ice-cream out, and there’s a sniffle on the other end. _“But the distance when she moved to university. We both agreed it was too much.”_

 _Ah,_ so that was it. Akira is Ibe’s niece – she and Kaori had met through Eiji in the first place and had hit it off as friends almost four years ago. The two had stuck together like glue, so their getting together wasn’t _really_ a surprise to Eiji, not really.

“Do you need me to do anything?”

There’s another little sniffle. _“Can you sing Dad’s song for me tonight? Later? You do it better and – I never told Kaa-san that Akira and I were – I mean, I was going to, but…”_

Kaori may be a brat, but Eiji cannot refuse _that._ It’s not like he blames her for not telling their mother about her and Akira. Not after how she reacted to Eiji after he came out as transgender all those years ago.

Eiji smiles. “No drinking coffee before bed, then sure.”

Kaori _gasps. “But – Eiji, you know I need it!”_

“Tea or I don’t sing to you.”

The pout that Kaori’s famous for _burns_ through the phone. “ _…I hate you.”_

“I love you too, Kao-chan.”

Kaori grumbles at him for the hated nickname before hanging up as Eiji is mid-sentence, and Eiji throws his head back and laughs _heartily_. Maybe the universe likes to use him as a cosmic plaything against the cute grumpy man and his little girl, but at least he has a brat of a sister to lift his mood.

* * *

The next time Eiji sees Ash and his little daughter, clouds paint the sky a foreboding grey. It’s taking longer for the light to hit the camera, and he’s constantly having to adjust the aperture settings for it to look _half_ decent. These ones aren’t really for his client anymore—they’re for him.

There’s a boat trailing along the water when he hears slow footsteps and puts his camera down.

Ash walks with his daughter, slow and scowling. Jaden looks about ready to keel over. _Long day at school?_ Eiji reasons that must be the case.

“Well, if it isn’t the sensitive American!” Eiji calls with a wave, and even chances a friendly, “how are you?”

Ash draws to a very, very slow stop. One foot looks ready to lift and he squints at Eiji. “…sure?”

All friendly disposition from Eiji melts _immediately_ into concern. Ash’s eyes have bags underneath them, and so does _Jaden._ Ash is practically holding her upright as she leans to the side, knees bent. Ash continues to blink slowly, like reality is just a neighbor he waves at through rainy glass.

“Are… you both alright?” Eiji’s gaze flits between both of them, camera fully down. “You look exhausted.”

“Long day,” Ash clips, pointing to Jaden with a long finger. “Gotta get this one home.”

Words spill out of Eiji before he can stop them. “Do you need any help? I can always—”

“No.” Ash cuts Eiji off before he can say anything further, shaking his head. “No, thanks.”

Ash then tugs at Jaden’s arm, getting her to blink sleepily. She barely registers Eiji is there—that _anything_ exists beyond her father’s hand and the thick frames of her big glasses and walks on sluggishly behind him.

Eiji can’t stop himself as he gently holds Ash’s arm. “Ash—”

“Please,” Ash begs. “Please.”

Eiji lets him go.

* * *

Two days later, Eiji finishes the completed commission job.

Despite the fussy nature of the client, he was giving golden reviews online, mentioned by _name._ That’s rare to do for him. Ibe’s even given him the next few days off to do what he wants.

He could sleep in. Could go out and try and be social, like normal 25-year-old men. Could try and venture out into the Detroit dating scene, get rejected by another man who doesn’t like the fact that his foot needs a little extra TLC.

Another letter comes through the mail.

_My Eiji, my Eiji, my Eiji._

More honeyed words, more risk for another broken heart.

Eiji’s camera glints in the morning sun. The light is golden. The trees outside rustle jade.

He rolls out of bed, pops a painkiller in, and heads for his car.

The bridge awaits.

* * *

Something isn’t right with the sky today, Eiji decides. He tries pressing the button on his camera, but none of the images look right, and he sits down on the floor with a sigh. His hair is down, no ponytail today, and it feels heavier.

It’s only been a few days since the last encounter, but something has Eiji shaken about the way that man – that _Ash_ – walked with his daughter to school. It was as if gravity had balled itself up into one physical object and chosen to place itself on Ash’s back, making his footsteps sluggish: his little daughter grounding him further with the way she barely followed on next to him.

Eiji shakes his head. “I do not even know these people beyond Ash showing he is annoyed by me,” he says to himself, sardonically amused with his own mind, “so why do I fret over strangers so?”

Another heavy sigh leaves his mouth; the autumn air swallows it in a cold wisp. He watches as it trails off into nothingness and narrows his eyes as it unveils for something else approaching in the distance.

At first, the sun blinds him a little. Eiji has to put his hand over his eyes just to make out that it is a _person_ running towards him, and he’s about to just play it off as coincidence, surely nobody would be in that much of a rush to see _him,_ when—

A little, pudgy hand waves him down. He _knows_ those eyes.

“Mister! _Mister!”_

 _That voice…_ Eiji shoots up, heart twisting at the desperation that he hears.

The little girl – Ash’s daughter, Jaden – she keeps running towards him, and Eiji has to stumble forward to catch her when she nearly trips over her undone shoelaces in an effort to get to him.

Jaden heaves for breath, cheeks flushed red to the point where they hide the light freckles on her face, and her large circle-framed glasses are haphazard on her nose. There’s sweat on Jaden’s forehead, in little beads.

Eiji wonders how long she’s been running around on her own.

“Are you alright?” Eiji looks around, biting his lip when he can’t see the grumpy American trailing behind her. “What happened?”

“I—” Jaden starts to tug on his arm. “I need—I need help, its Ash, _please,_ my Pops, something’s wrong with him, he’s—he’s—”

Eiji puts a hand on her shoulder. He tries for a calm approach. “Take a deep breath and tell me what happened.”

Jaden cuts him off with a sharp shake of her head, digging her nails into his arm. Small tears are forming in the corner of her eyes from the panic. “No! No, he’s—Mister, please, he fell over and he’s not waking up!”

“ _What?”_

Jaden tugs desperately on his arm. “We have to go!” She insists. “We have to go _now!”_

There’s over $2000 of his semi-new camera equipment by the riverfront.

Eiji takes one look at this child’s dire expression, at those glassy eyes putting hope in a stranger.

“Okay,” he says with a nod and doesn’t hesitate in letting her lead the way.

Jaden grabs his hand and begins to run with the speed of a demon in Church, like every step away from her father burns her feet, and—

Eiji remembers the last run to the hospital in Izumo. There were lilacs paving the paths there. Sparrows hiding in the treetops. In Detroit, there is only concrete and weeds poking up through the cracks in the sidewalk, and sparrows getting lost in the sun-showers.

They reach Ash in a matter of minutes. Jaden lets go of Eiji’s hand and skids on her knees to his side, nudging on his shoulder. “Ash, Ash – I bought that nice photography man now! See? He’s gonna help, so please wake up.” She sobs, and Eiji notices for the first time just how much she’s shaking. “Please, _please_ don’t stay asleep.”

Eiji has to take a moment to look at Ash.

He’s curled up on the sidewalk like it were a mattress. His hair is a little greasy, there are dark circles underneath his eyes, and he looks thinner. There’s a scruffy, unshaven amount of stubble coating his chin.

 _How exhausted are you, Ash?_ Eiji reaches over and is allayed when there’s a pulse thrumming underneath his fingertips. He then works on moving Ash to lay in the recovery position. Eiji punctuates it with tilting Ash’s head back and making sure his airwaves are clear.

_Have you really been running yourself to the point of collapse?_

Ash stirs a little under the foreign touch, making Eiji awash with relief.

“Mister?” Jaden tugs on Eiji’s sleeve. “Is he going to be okay?”

Eiji sits crossed-legged on the ground and pulls out his phone. “I think so, it just seems like exhaustion, but we should probably call an ambulance just to be sure—”

A hand shoots out, weakly holding his wrist. Eiji startles when he finds it belongs to Ash.

“No… no,” Ash mumbles, shaking his head. Fingers curl around Eiji’s wrist. His eyes are unfocused, dazed, but they’re looking right at Jaden. “No.”

To his surprise, Jaden also looks hesitant, torn between agreeing with her father and arguing with Eiji. Ash’s head flops back onto the ground, barely able to muster up the energy to blink.

Eiji chews his lip. “Is there someone I can _call_ for you both? Someone who could look after things for a while?”

Jaden grows a little anxious when her father doesn’t respond, so she takes the helm. “We… we only moved here recently. We don’t know anyone.” Jaden’s beautiful green eyes cloud over, and she looks downcast. “We don’t have anyone here.”

_Right, well then._

Eiji rolls up his sleeves and clicks his wrists. “Jaden,” he begins, and he sees the way Jaden perks up at him, light returning as she faces the sun. “Do you know your way back home?”

“I…” She nods. “Yeah. Pops had me remember it. Why?”

 _Very responsible._ Eiji will have to commend Ash on it later. “I will need you to point out the way for me. I have a car; I will take you both back to your home.”

Jaden’s trying to fight a smile until it falls. “But… Pops can’t walk. He’s too tired.”

“I know.” Eiji gets up and puts one arm underneath Ash’s knees. “I will carry him there myself.”

“ _What?!”_ Jaden bites her nail, eyebrows shooting up to her hairline. “But you-you're littler than him! How can you lift him? You’re really weak, right?”

Eiji’s eye twitches, and he has to take a breath. _She is a child. She is a curious, blunt child. Ignore the rudeness. She is just ignorant._ Those green eyes glitter and gleam with curiousity, and Eiji finds his anger melting away. Just a little.

“I am a former athlete, Jaden,” he smiles, his other arm going around Ash’s back. Eiji prays to any God, Asian or Western or beyond, that his ankle doesn’t give out as he hauls Ash up, shifting so that Ash’s head lolls onto his shoulder. “I assure you; I am plenty strong enough to carry Ash.”

Eiji isn’t ashamed to admit it strokes his ego when Jaden gawks. _“Wow…”_

Jaden trots on behind him, still looking like _she_ could keel over at any instant. She’s holding this adorable pink rabbit with hard stuffing, and her backpack is draped over her. Eiji lets her babble on about anything that comes to mind – he suspects it is how she stays awake – from her imaginary friends to subjects she likes at school.

They come across his usual photography spot, halfway through. All his equipment is gone.

 _Oh well,_ Eiji mourns, _I will just have to do overtime for Ibe to make up for it._

When they reach Eiji’s (sadly) worn-down car, he tenderly bundles Ash in the backseat and clips a belt over him. Eiji has to stifle a laugh when Ash tries to cling to his arm before he prises it away, unzipping his coat and tucking it around Ash, closing the door once Eiji’s satisfied that he’s comfortable.

Jaden’s already clambering in the backseat to sit next to Ash.

Eiji’s adjusting the rear-view mirror when he sees Jaden folding her arms and hooking a brow. It goes on for a few moments before Eiji caves. “Is something the matter?”

“I don’t like you driving.”

Eiji virtually chokes. “You—you’ve never even seen me drive!”

Jaden’s mouth bends into a little pout. “Pops said you’re probably only just old enough to drink. I’ve seen what people are like when they’re allowed to buy grown-up drinks for the first time when they drive. My Pops is sick.”

 _They both think I am only 21?!_ Eiji takes a breath, eye twitching. His fingers drum against the wheel, and he tries to keep his voice level as he asks, “and how old, Jaden, is your father?”

“Well, he was, um, Mami said he was… 17 when I was a baby and his birthday was when I started school…” Jaden has to count on her fingers, frowning when she mentally stumbles. Eiji can’t help but find it endearing as she’s struggling to count. “Um… what is 17 add 6?”

 _He is only 23? 24?_ Eiji feels a little smug, fingertips tapping on the wheel still. _I am older than him._

“Let’s just say,” Eiji replies with a grin, beginning the drive directed by Jaden’s words, “that I have been able to drive longer than you have been _alive._ ”

The drive there is a lot slower than Eiji is normally used to. Maybe on account of his SATNAV now being the mumbled voice of a little girl, but she’s doing a good enough job. Somehow the _“big tree with the googly eyes”_ and _“the diner where Pops works”_ is good enough for Eiji to follow. Jaden’s looking out of the glass, eyes like a hawk, voice on point. Her hand hasn’t left her father’s arm.

It’s cute, how protective she is.

Cute, but sad.

_I wonder where your mother is._

Jaden fumbles for the keys once they reach her and Ash’s apartment – a quaint little apartment that overlooks the waterfront. Inconspicuous, right in plain sight. Eiji remembers all the old spy movies he and his sister used to crowd around the old television set and watch. This place would be perfect for a 007 safehouse. Eiji carries Ash inside but takes his time in looking around.

There’s internalized horror when Jaden trudges in _without_ taking off her shoes caked in mud, making her way to grab and orange straight to the kitchen, at best, has been cleaned slap-dash. There’s no rotting food, but there are old plastic wrappings and empty cereal boxes, pieces of stray rice and pasta tucked into dents in the floor. Eiji remembers this sort of cleaning from when he first moved to Detroit and was trying to figure out how to live.

“Where is your Dad’s bedroom?” He asks, adjusting Ash in his arms.

Jaden points to a door with a small dent in the front. “Be careful of all the books.”

 _What an odd warning._ Eiji gives her a nod and tries to keep the pressure on his bad ankle and leg to a minimum as he makes his way to Ash’s room and—

Eiji’s jaw falls the second he opens the door. Jaden was _not_ kidding about the books. There are more books in piles than there is _floor space,_ piling higher than Eiji at times. Some are old history books, literature, politics, science. There must be hundreds. _Every single one marked with a bookmark._

Others are half-opened kids’ books, which must be Jaden’s, which is quite sweet. Eiji can imagine Ash and Jaden sitting on the floor and reading. Eiji sighs and makes the first step and—

It’s like walking through a floor littered with landmines, trying to get this stupid, _ridiculous_ man into bed. He almost slips a few times before practically throwing him onto the mattress.

Ash sinks into the covers and _snores._ Eiji has to smack a hand over his mouth to prevent himself from laughing, making his way back out of the book-filled mountain range. He turns, just once, to catch a glimpse of Ash resting. There’s no furrow to his brow this time.

Eiji flicks out the light and sees Jaden scribbling away at the table. She’s pushed more papers and books aside, taking up a little corner and kicking her legs, and looks up when the door closes.

“Oh, Mister.” There’s an anxious crease to her brow. “Are you going?”

This gives him pause. A part of him – a logical part – probably should leave, avoid getting tangled in this strange man’s mess any longer.

Eiji takes one look at those worried green eyes. “Not yet,” he chances, and—there it is. Her shoulders relax with relief. “I thought I should stay and wait until he wakes up. Is that alright with you?”

Jaden snorts, going back to her colouring book. “Your funeral, Mister. He’s _real_ grumpy in the mornings.”

Pulling up a chair, Eiji slumps with relief at the pressure being taken off his bad ankle. It’s not so awful these days. He’s had over six years to get used to the metal plate screwed into his bones, found ways to cope so he can run and carry weights, but it still hurts at times.

“Eiji.”

Jaden blinks. “Huh?”

“My name. It’s Eiji.”

“Oh.” Jaden tests it out, filling out a tree’s leaves in a beautiful purple colour. “ _Ay-Jee._ That’s a weird name.”

“All names are weird,” Eiji says, watching as Jaden slowly puts down her crayon, and gives him her attention. “Why do you think it’s weird?”

“Just never heard a name like it.”

 _Well,_ Eiji thinks, sitting back. _That is fair enough._ What else is he supposed to say to a child’s soundless blunt logic?

The hardwood of the chair digs into Eiji’s back, and his ankle is beginning that familiar dull ache. He’s going to spending the next week in his ankle support, he knows it. The very notion has him pursing his lips in disgust. He distracts himself by looking around the apartment, _properly,_ and begins to notice certain things about it.

It’s the apartment of someone who’s trying, but _tired._

Jaden’s drawings cover the fridge and an entire wall in the living room. Books _pile_ up around the television set, which looks dusty. Some are half-opened, some have dog-ears on the pages, and there are a few empty packets of children’s snacks scattered.

Oddly enough, there’s a bonsai tree in the middle of the coffee table that looks _immaculately_ cared for, along with a dish for what Eiji can only assume is meant for keys or other odd trinkets. There’s a gaudy pink, plastic ring in there with a fake gem, glue poking up around the sides.

The sound of scribbling has stopped when Eiji hears Jaden mutter, “…I know it looks messy. Ash has been real tired. He hasn’t even gotten mad about me not tidyin’ my room.”

Eiji looks back around. Jaden’s huddling her knees on the chair, curling into a little ball. He swivels around, putting his elbows on his knees as he leans forward to look her in the eye.

“Have you been tired, too?”

“Mm.”

That’s all she’s offering him, Eiji knows that instantly. Kids are fickle, brash, and will do _complete_ upheavals of their moods. Eiji is not going to pry into the psychological distresses of a kid that he barely knows. If she wants to open up to someone, it should be to her father, not to him.

So, Eiji rolls up his sleeves and stands up. “Right, then. You want to tell me where all the cleaning supplies are here, Jaden?”

Jaden furrows her brow. “Huh?”

“As you said, your Dad hasn’t had a lot of time to clean up. He’s asleep now, right?” Jaden nods, Eiji grins. “If we’re going to just be sitting here in silence, we may as well give him a standard of clean to wake up to. It’s even worse if a stranger does it.”

He kneels in front of Jaden, ignoring the pain in his ankle, and offers her a hand. “Want to help me?”

* * *

Honestly, the actual cleaning of the apartment doesn’t take them too long. Sure, Eiji’s battling an ankle he _knows_ is going to be paying for his recklessness later, and Jaden feels the need to comment on every little thing that her father eats when they come across _more_ packets of bagels, but all in all, it only takes them around an hour or two.

It’s the _books_ that are taking forever. Eiji’s grateful to be sitting on the floor after having mopped the kitchen floor and tied everything in garbage bags, ready to shove down the trash chute later on, but there must be _hundreds_ here. Ash, the little shit, doesn’t even care to organise his normal books from ones he’s borrowed from the library.

But there is something else that’s taking up his time. Eiji leans back on his hands and lets out a little, fond sigh at the scene in front of him.

“And then—” Jaden throws up her arms. “Then they told me that I could _carry_ Pineapple to make room for more phone numbers in my backpack to take to my _‘yummy Dad’_! The—the—the _audacity!”_ She grabs her stuffed toy rabbit, Pineapple – a cute name for it, considering the small, green-colored mohawk sewn into its head, and plastic sunglasses over its beaded eyes – and cradles him so tightly, Eiji’s sure the stuffing will burst.

 _Ah,_ Eiji thinks, _now that’s a word she has picked up from Ash._

“Audacity, indeed,” Eiji agrees. “I take it your Dad is very popular?”

“ _Duh._ ” Jaden _glowers_ at the rubbish bag of phone numbers, crossing her legs and pouting. “They like him more than _me_ at school.”

Eiji thinks back to the times he’s seen her class on school trips whilst on his photography excursions. How Jaden would trail behind, clutching her rabbit, watching the sparrows get lost in the rain, and his heartaches.

The book in his hand goes back to the floor. It’s some world encyclopedia anyway. It’ll be rewritten next year. “You said you were new here, didn’t you?” Eiji asks, leaning his elbow on his good knee when Jaden nods. “Is it hard talking to the children in school?”

Jaden purses her lips and nods. The sound of the clock ticks on, and outside, the sky is growing dark. Ibe’s going to be expecting him in the office tomorrow morning. He really, _really_ should be going and settling home for the night, making his tea and staring out at the brisk cityscape and ignoring the desperately needed paint job on his windows.

“Have you told your Dad?”

“No.” Jaden shrugs. “I don’t think he likes me too, sometimes.”

Ice strikes Eiji’s heart. His fingertips feel numb. 

_I thought Ash at least—_

He takes a moment to breathe, to calm his nerves. Blood rushes back to his hands as he rationalizes. Kids may be blunt in their honesty, but not all honesty is mature reasoning, and they have tendency to stretch their truths. “What makes you say that, Jaden?”

There’s another, half-hearted shrug. Eiji feels his heart breaking for her. “He left all his friends, like Uncle Shorter. He doesn’t even use his proper name here.” Little creases begin to appear in her brow, followed by a sad little sniffle, and she wipes under her crusty nose. “I think he hates me for it.”

 _Ash is using another name?_ And—Eiji has to think on that there for a moment. Ash’s distrusting nature, the constant refusal of help, Eiji always thought it just a testament to his character of being gruff and unapproachable. And, yes, Eiji still thinks that. There’s nothing bad about a cordial _hello._ But with Jaden’s words, a little bit is explained. Especially with the inconspicuous location of the apartment.

Eiji decides to tuck away that thought for now. Right now, there’s a heartbroken little girl who thinks that because her father is tired and stressed to the point of collapse, that it means he hates her.

“Jaden, look around your apartment.”

Her head shoots up. There are little beads tears in her eyes. “Huh?”

Eiji gestures with a wave of his hand. “Go on.”

She unfurls from her little ball and eyes him oddly but begins to stand up and look around. “What am I lookin’ for?” There’s a small lilt to her voice, one that’s similar to Ash’s when he gets mad. They sound like they’re both from Brooklyn, maybe—though Ash has something else to his. Cape Cod, maybe? Eiji doesn’t spend hours analysing Ash’s voice.

(Alright, maybe he has. In passing. Trying to sleep.)

“What do you see?”

There’s a little pout on her lip that looks like it was lifted directly from Ash. “I-I. My drawin’s? My books? Eiji!” She stomps her foot, then looks guiltily at her father’s bedroom door. She whisper-hisses, “this is _dumb!”_

He sees ghosts of his own childhood, in this little girl. The doubts, the unease. Eiji is assured, at least, that this one has parents that are _always_ trying to do right by her. “There are pieces of you surrounding the apartment. Not just in your room.” He motions to the fridge. “I’ve been in here for five minutes, and I can tell he wants as much of you around as he can.”

Jaden startles as her entire world has tilted. Her eyes go wide, as she stares around the apartment. She starts to hug her arms. “He… never said nothin’…”

“Some people just find it harder to find the words. Especially if they’re new at something and don’t want to admit how hard it is.” Eiji ambles over to Jaden and points at Ash’s phone on the coffee table. “I bet if you turn that on, his lock screen is a photograph of you.”

The gap-toothed smile he’s blessed with once she _does_ see that photograph of her on Ash’s phone is enough for Eiji to muster the will to walk on a shitty ankle through a road trip across all the states and _back._

Jaden clutches the phone to her chest and her smile twists into tears. The dark marks under her eyes obscured with the shadow of her hands.

“I’m… _tryna_ be good…”

“He knows that, Jaden. I promise you, he does.” Because—really. Eiji doesn’t know Ash very well, but he’s seen the two out and about. The only person that man has eyes for _is_ his daughter. And that smile he gives her whenever she’s excited or rambling or pouty—

It’s more love in one smile than his own mother gave him for seven years. Eiji knows what a good parent looks like, and Ash may as well be the definition.

 _That_ particular thought ends when a head flops down onto his lap. Eiji blinks down in surprise to see Jaden there, balling a fist into his sweats, her shoulders trembling. Her other arm is curled around that little stuffed rabbit of hers.

A heart-breaking plea follows. “I don’t want the monsters to take Pops, too. I only just got him back.”

Ice shoots through Eiji’s veins again, mouth gaping in disbelief. Jaden continues to sob, little mewls, and it’s like rescuing a kitten from being half-drowned out of a creek.

Eiji wavers, before putting a gentle hand on the top of her back. It stays there until Jaden ends up crying herself into a gentle slumber, hand still twisted in the fabric of his sweats and—

Well.

Eiji looks up at the clock, then out of the apartment window to the dusky rose of Detroit’s skies, the way it blossoms into the night with the hint of stars. It’s not just the sheen reflecting off of his glasses, he knows that.

 _Well. No choice, I suppose._ He simply fishes in his pocket for his phone, and sends Ibe a message, before leaning against the wall with a sigh.

* * *

The next thing Eiji knows, two little pudgy hands are slapping his face. “Eiji,” the voice whisper-hisses, before resorting to pinching his cheek. “ _Eiji!”_

Eiji tries not to yelp in pain as he jumps, foot _slamming_ back into the ground and sending a jolt of pain through to his hip. He startles, grabbing the carpet and darts his gaze around—only to be met with the fuzzy image of a pair of big green eyes. Jaden’s standing there, clutching her little rabbit, looking nervous.

“Did I fall asleep?” Eiji checks his phone and—sure enough, the memories flood back to him. Ibe’s the first notification on his phone. He stuffs it back into his pocket for later. He sits up against the wall and rubs his head, grabbing his glasses. “What time is it?

Jaden scuffs her foot on the floor. “School time,” she answers.

 _So, around 8:30._ Eiji groans as he pops his shoulders, clicking his arms. “Alright, where is your Dad? He should be taking you, shouldn’t he?”

“I, um.”

Eiji sits up further, grabs the small bag he’d had slung around his back, and digs through for his hormone medication. “If he didn’t wake all night, I expect he’s well-rested by now. I did check on him a few times after you fell asleep, but—”

“He’s still sleeping.”

Eiji pauses, looking up from his bag. “He _is?”_

Jaden shrugs, hiding her face behind her rabbit. “He’s been real tired.”

 _Great._ Eiji pops the medication by his bag and stands up, dusting off his knees. It takes a moment of rotating his ankle before it feels alright-enough to walk on, and he folds his arms. “Guess I’ll go wake him up then, explain why I’m here.”

Eiji makes it to _one_ step when Jaden’s little hands frantically grab onto his sweats. She’s digging her heels into the carpeted floor as he tries to take another step.

“I—he’s real grumpy if you wake him up!” Jaden exclaims. “You don’t wanna have him getting all grumpy with you in the mornings.”

 _Absolutely wonderful._ He’s grateful for the warning, he supposes. “Then he will have to grow up,” Eiji counters, but her grip only gets tighter.

“It’s fine! I know where the bus stop is. I can get to school all by myself.”

 _This_ makes Eiji stop.

Now, it’s true in Japan, a simple walk through the neighborhood at her age with other children is quite common. Encouraged, even, to show children that they can trust in the community should they lose their way and cannot come across their parents. Eiji was walking with his little sister to school on his own at a very early age. So, at first, this doesn’t click as shocking.

But America isn’t Japan, and Jaden is _very_ insistent on not waking Ash up.

Eiji sits down on the couch to be at her eye-level. “Is there a reason you don’t want me to wake Ash?”

Her shoulders hunch, and she shrugs.

“You know I will anyway, Jaden,” Eiji tells her, and Jaden’s face pales a bit. “You want me to tell him you were about to try and get to school on your own?”

“No!” She wilts a bit. “No, I—no. He’s just—he’s sleepy. I don’t wanna wake him up.”

 _Oh._ Honestly, this little girl seems like such a sweetheart. How she ended up with a grump for a father, he’ll never know. Eiji pats the top of her head. “I understand, but I am going to wake him, okay? He needs to know.”

Jaden juts out her bottom lip and nods, but she stomps off to the bathroom and closes the door. _Probably sulking,_ Eiji guesses. Defeated, he clicks his back again and limps on over to Ash’s bedroom. Kneels down and scowls at the sleeping lion, who’s _still_ got that scowl on his face.

_Bear your fangs all you like; I’ve seen you pout over a 6-year-old not liking Catcher in the Rye._

Eiji pokes Ash’s cheek. “Oi. Wake up.”

Ash barely stirs.

Eiji scowls, brows furrowing underneath the frames of his glasses. _I am not your maid._

Eiji stands up, hands on his hips. “Ash, _wake up._ ”

His eye twitches when, again, _Ash does not stir._ How close does Eiji have to get to wake this man up? He doesn’t want to be _attacked_ by this guy, who quite frankly looks like he could _look_ at Eiji wrong and—

_No. Don’t do that._

Eiji gently shakes Ash’s shoulder, saying, “Ash, _Ash,_ wake up. Come on, you’ve got to take Jaden to school.”

With that, Ash’s eyes open and he shoots up. Sleep crusts around his eyes, and he rubs his head as he looks at Eiji. “…the fuck’re you doin’ here?” Ash grumbles, hand wiping his face down to his stubbled jaw.

It startles Eiji how _exhausted_ this man looks. It’s been at least 10 hours, and he still looks ready to keel over where he sits, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. 

_Well,_ Eiji swallows. _At least he didn’t hit me._

“I bought you back in my car. I would have gone home, but Jaden—well, she wanted me to stay, and I fell asleep.” Eiji kneels down to Ash, sees the way he’s swaying. “You look exhausted, Ash.”

“Fuckin’ am,” he grumbles, shaking his head and slapping his face. “Been on auto-pilot.”

Eiji bites his lip. Now he sees why Jaden was so hesitant to wake Ash up. He looks _ill._ Everything about him looks pale, and those green eyes have lost their luster.

“If you’d like,” Eiji begins, shrinking in on himself when Ash snaps his head to glare at him. “I could take Jaden to school for you, so you can rest more. It wouldn’t bother me.”

“No way.” Ash groans as he massages his temples. “Don’t fuckin’ know you.”

“That’s… fair. I—whoah, _Ash—”_

Ash almost _faints_ as he tries to get out of bed, hanging his head and going limp in Eiji’s arms—white-hot pain shoots up his ankle as he bends it, right up to his _knee—_ and they both end up on the floor near a pile of books that comes crashing down.

“Shit,” Ash curses. “…’m so _tired_.”

Eiji sits crossed-legged on the floor, puts an arm on Ash’s back. “I gathered. When was the last time you rested at all?”

When Ash has to _think_ about it, that’s already enough for Eiji to understand. He answers Eiji’s question with a small shrug and looks away.

“Look, you—you’re well within your right to refuse that offer. But I think you need to rest. Badly.” Eiji pulls out a pen from his breast pocket and a small slip of paper—some receipt from a coffee shop he likes—and scribbles something down, before handing it to Ash.

He blinks sleepily at it, then looks at Eiji, confused. It’s kind of cute how he scrunches his brow.

“My license plate, full name, workplace, and work phone number,” Eiji explains as he pats Ash’s back and grins, eyes shining behind his glasses. “So, just in case your gut instinct is right, I’ll be hauled into jail and deported back to Japan in no-time.”

The crease in Ash’s brow furrows further, making aged lines on his face. “…Why?”

“Does there need to be a special reason to help someone?”

Ash laughs, shaking his head. “My case? Yeah.”

Eiji purses his lips. “Well, not in mine. I _really_ just want to help.”

There’s a small creak by the door and a little shadow by the door. Eiji can see a pair of green eyes in the small gap in the door.

His hand remains on Ash’s back, and the warmth spreads to Eiji’s frail little heart. “I can help you, Ash. Just let yourself rest.”

The look of pure, unfiltered _vulnerability_ that Ash gives him sticks with Eiji as he walks down the stairs, starts up his car, and journeys down the spread-out streets of Detroit during the school rush-hour. It lingers with him, following his mind like a ghost, until he reaches the school that he’s seen Jaden return to a few times, following behind her class as she clings to her little toy rabbit alone, with sad green eyes.

_Like father, like daughter._

* * *

There are a few things Eiji learns about Ash and Jaden in the afternoon that he takes Jaden back home from school and sees the sleeping lion rouse from his chambers.

He learns that Jaden _loves_ to rant. Apparently the phone numbers being pushed onto her from single parents and teachers is a common thing she has to go through, and apparently the _“my Daddy is gay”_ tactic hasn’t stopped persistently in-denial women and _very enthusiastic_ men from pressing their luck. The language that spills out of Jaden’s mouth is very articulate for a kid her age, and the facial expressions he pulls are honestly so hilarious he had to pull over a few times to bust a laugh from his gut.

Also, the swear jar. Apparently Ash has quite the potty mouth.

Now, Eiji’s staring at Ash’s bathroom mirror, with Ash’s clothes slung over his arm, having just given Ash his personal number and _basically offering_ to be the man’s friend. Eiji’s hands clamp over the sink, the water running as he tries to freshen up.

With the way his mouth runs away with him, he’s surprised it’s his legs that were famous for his pole-vaulting career back as a teenager. (Not that it matters with his snapped ankle, then further accident leaving it with a metal implant for the rest of his life.)

Eiji groans and scrubs his 5 o’clock shadow with some hand soap, before stealing a bottle of Ash’s deodorant. Thankfully his hair isn’t greasy—he just combs it back into another ponytail and slips on the sweats and green plaid shirt, before looking back at himself in the mirror.

The man staring back at him looks pitiful, with clothes obviously too big for him. “Okumura Eiji,” he mutters in Japanese, stroking his jaw, “you are an absolute mess.”

The familiar alarm begins to chime on his phone as he steps out of the bathroom, one hand stuffed into one of the pockets of the sweats. The cotton material pools around his ankles in bunches. It really _is_ unfair just how tall Ash—or any man, really—is compared to Eiji. He puts his phone back into his pocket, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Duty calls?” Ash calls, over a mug of coffee. His bagel is half-eaten. His glasses glint on the bridge of his nose.

“I have a client to see today,” Eiji explains, going over to the sofa and grabbing his shoulder bag, slinging it over his back. “I am working late today, so, yes. I need to be off.”

“Alright.” Ash takes a long sip as Eiji makes his way towards the door. “Hey, Eiji. Before you go.” Eiji pauses for a moment, as Ash slides a slip of paper over to him. “My number as well,” Ash explains, turning back away again. “Hope it’s a good one for you today.”

“…Yeah,” Eiji says, lips quirking up in a smile as he opens the door, putting the number into his pocket. “You, too, Ash.”

Jaden’s calling him goodbyes from the other room, waving with her little gap-toothed grin, and he gives her a wave.

_Cute kid._

But there’s something in the way that Ash smiles at him as Eiji leaves, contemplative and eyes shining behind those glasses, that has his brain devoid of blood for his entire late shift, and well into the night.

* * *

Eiji’s dragged back to Ash and Jaden’s apartment _far_ sooner than he would like; approximately 24 hours after the fact. And it’s not like it’s intentional, either.

He’s spent the better part of the day coordinating clientele with Ibe, editing photographs, and working with Maxine, their graphic designer, on one of their latest original projects. Eiji’s out doing the coffee run when his timer goes off, and he rummages through his backpack for his hormones—

And they aren’t there.

It’s a little bit of frantic panic, the way he upturns the entire office, then his locker and even poor Ibe and Maxine stop what they’re doing to try and help him out. Even with the added eyes and hands, Eiji turns up empty, and his panic turns to anxiety.

He can always get them replaced, but that will take _time—_

Once he begins the mental backtrack, dread washes over him. The last place he had them, he was sitting on the floor of an unfamiliar apartment, with a little girl trying to convince him that she could get to school all by herself.

Eiji groans into his hands. “Don’t worry, I know where they are.”

So, here he is. Knocking on the door after shooting Ash a message (the little shit just responded with a thumbs-up emoji), face red with shame.

Ash answers with his hair stuck-up, eyes half-lidded, and takes a step back to let Eiji in without saying a single word. Over on the couch, Jaden’s sticking her feet up in the air and reading a book a _little_ past her age level.

“Meds are on the counter,” Ash grumbles, before flopping back down on the chair. “Didn’t take any out, don’t worry.”

“Right, uh… thank you.” Eiji swallows. Ash doesn’t seem too bothered, which… Eiji takes as a positive. He swipes the medication off of the counter and shoves it into his rucksack. “I’m sorry for disturbing you—”

“What is _with_ you and apologising?” He grunts back. “Is this a trait of the Japanese? It’s fine, I told you.”

 _No, you didn’t. All you did was be cryptic with emojis._ Eiji scowls, crossing his arms. “You could stand to be less grumpy, Ash.” The vexed huff could almost make Eiji laugh. “Regardless, I appreciate you saving them for me.”

“Are you sick, Eiji?”

Both Ash and Eiji look over at Jaden, who’s peeking over the couch at him. “Pardon?”

“Medicine.” She points, resting her chin on her little stuffed rabbit. “Are you sick or somethin’? Am I gonna get sick? Pops called them hormones. I don’t get it.”

“Jaden—”

“No, it’s alright, Ash.” Eiji rubs the back of his neck, trying to find the words. Not the first time he’s come out, it won’t be the last, and maybe Jaden could use a crash-course in trans-education. “I’m not sick. These are just… special pills I need to take. Your Dad is right, they are hormones.”

Jaden scrunches up her nose. “Why’d you need to take pills if you ain’t sick?”

 _Kagura would have called me sick up until this year._ Her letter is still unanswered.

“The short version? I wasn’t born in the right body. I was born a little girl—like you. But I wanted to be a boy. That’s just my story, everyone is different, but—I need these so I can stay being a man. Do you understand?”

“Mm…” Jaden shrugs. “Born a girl, turned into a boy? Yeah, I guess. Cool.” She flops back onto the couch and flips through her book. “So, you’re a boy now?”

“Jaden,” Ash chuckles and shakes his head. “He was always a boy, kid. He just takes the medicine so he can _feel_ happier about it.”

Eiji’s heart thrums violently. “I—yes. Exactly.”

“Okay.” Jaden peeks over at him and smiles. “You’re a prettier boy than Pops. I like you better.”

“Oi. Don’t push it.” Ash gives Eiji a wave. “Thanks for the lesson, Eiji. See you.”

Eiji walks over to the door with a smile reaching his ears. “Yeah…” He has to hide his mouth as he exits that sunny little apartment. “See you both later, you two.”

* * *

The latest shoot went well enough—Eiji got around 200 shots of the client’s dog frolicking around in the garden, caught in the pure _joy_ that is the garden-sprinkler system. He clicks through each picture, trying to find the one with the best composition, and the thoughts of Buddy fill his mind with glee. 

The little golden retriever that he’d found in a dumpster behind his home, right after the accident that gave him that surgical scar on his head and pins in his ankle, he had been an _angel._ Eiji had toted that dog around like he was his son for five years. It broke his heart to leave him with Kaori, but she needed him more. She still needs him, despite her whining about him being a _pouty baby._

Honestly. The brat spoils Buddy more than Eiji _ever_ has. Normal dog food will suffice, but she just _insists_ on the premium, custom-ordered chow from _actual chefs._

Eiji cracks his back and stretches his arms, opening up his photograph editor. Not much work needs to be done—the client had instructed as _authentic_ as possible. Just some touching up on the light to dull the over-exposure, maybe some colour adjustments to make the little guy pop out from the background.

Dogs can be a blessing or a curse to work with. Eiji’s happy this one turned out to be the former. It helped that the client allowed him to pet the little guy to Eiji’s heart’s content after the shoot was over.

The clock ticks by, until 5AM becomes 7:30AM, and he’s got more coffee refills than paper scattered around his desk. Sleep hasn’t evaded him this much since he crammed for university entrance exams, but he’s wiping underneath his eyes and threatening to yawn if he goes even ten minutes without a sip of caffeine.

“Alright, Eiji, that’s enough,” he mutters, clicking out of his editing program and shutting down his computer, taking off his glasses and letting them hang on his shirt collar. “Dinner, then bed.”

Maybe he is still in the same 3-day sweats and stupid _“I LOVE NY_ ” shirt he got when he was 19 (apparently Ibe got it for him, but that memory eludes him), but he’s not looking to impress anyone as he limps over to the kitchen and stabs a fork into a microwave dinner. It’s just shitty pasta. His ramen cups are depleting by the second.

The seconds on the microwave are counting down when he swipes his coffee cup (he grimaces when it is _cold_ to the touch), when he feels something buzz in his pocket. Eiji fishes out his phone, and he almost spits out his coffee at the contact name.

He scrambles for his glasses to make _sure_ he’s not going crazy and blinks owlishly.

 **ASH (07:38)  
** _hey uh  
look i know its early  
but would you be able to swing by this mornin  
jaden’s got a school picture today and she really wants braids  
and i have no fucking clue how to do this  
seriously  
what is with youtube videos bein stupidly deceptive  
ive been up since 6 trying to do this  
you have long hair so like  
can u do braids_

The mental image that flashes through Eiji’s mind is too good not to laugh at.

_Poor Jaden._

His eyes flit to the clock. Today is his only day off, then it’s a solid 5-day, 9-hours a day work week due to overtime. Ibe tried (nay, almost _begged_ ) to make him not take the extra shifts but was too relieved to say no when Eiji insisted—especially with some school’s picture day coming up, Ibe’s swamped himself with that assignment.

With Maxine out of town for her wedding to her girlfriend, Chloe, and with Todd ill with a snapped rotator cuff, it just left Ibe and Eiji to take up their clientele load for the week.

Eiji should be sleeping. He’s already a day-down on rest.

The phone lights up with another notification.

 **ASH (07:45)  
** _what the actual fuck is a fishtail braid with twintails  
look i wouldn’t have asked but jaden is like  
mad at me for screwing up_

The microwave beeps impatiently at Eiji, and he realises he’s been staring at his phone for a while. He opens the door and takes the plastic tray out, nose wrinkling at the smell of cheap beef. He’s thinking as he’s digging his fork around the plastic-looking pasta swirls.

This is Eiji’s only day off. He really should be eating this and getting some sleep.

 **ASH (07:49)  
** _shit she’s actually mad at me now. I almost yanked her hair out  
she’s askin for you now  
fuck youre probably asleep.  
look if you do read this I will buy you breakfast or something. _

Eiji sighs heavily.

He dumps the pasta into the bin, changes into a clean shirt whilst freshening up, and grabs his car keys. Some of Kaori’s old star-shaped hair slides are in his little trinket dish, from when she used to visit as a teenager. Eiji never had the heart to throw them out, even if she’s graduated _from “trying to be a girly-girl for the sake of fitting in_ ” to an _“unabashed gearhead swathed in ripped plaid and five-day worn faded jeans”._

Eiji throws them into his pocket as well and locks his door.

He’s at the apartment in 15 minutes. The elevator is out of order (because _of course it is_ ), and by the time he’s up the flight of stairs, he feels his ankle begin to burn again, limping along the corridor until he gets to Ash’s apartment door, leans against the wall, and knocks.

It’s quiet for a long while inside. Eiji glances at his phone, then back at the apartment.

“Ash?” Eiji chances, knocking again as he calls out. “I did message you, are you in? It’s Eiji.”

It’s quiet for a moment longer, until Eiji can hear some hushed whispers, and then a frantic _pitter-patter_ of feet across the apartment. There are a few hard thumps on the floor until the door flings open, and Jaden’s stood there with a big grin on her face, her normally curly hair an absolute _mess_ of hairbands and random pigtails.

“Hi, Eiji!” She greets, clinging onto the door. She must’ve jumped to reach the handle. Eiji has to stop his heart from squeezing over how _cute_ that image is. “Pops got shy.”

 _“What the fuck are you saying, you brat?”_ Ash calls from the bathroom. “ _Come on in, Eiji. Ignore her.”_

“Swear jar.” Jaden hops down and helps herself to $5 from her father’s wallet and puts it in a jar on the coffee table, moving aside to let Eiji in who’s already taking off his shoes.

“It’s nice to see you again too, Jaden.” Eiji crouches a little, before eyeing her hair. “Jeez. Your Dad really sucks at this, huh?”

 _“Hey!”_ Ash pokes his head around the door and—okay, Eiji’s heart admittedly does a little flip at the sight of Ash, bangs pinned back with bobby pins, loose tank with straps hanging over a _very_ toned bicep. The scowl on his face notwithstanding.

Eiji tries not to rake his gaze over him for too long.

Ash holds out his phone, paused over some video tutorial. “You tried following this crap? This is my seventh go at this shit.” The pout on his face is _legendary._ (Jaden takes another $5 for the swear jar. Maybe the overtime Ash takes is purely for his cursing habits.) “Not sure why _missy_ here _—_ ” Jaden just shoots Ash a gap-toothed grin. “—wants braids in the first place, but she’s been having a head-fit all morning because I don’t do it right.”

“Picture day,” Jaden explains, pulling her hair out of the skewed ponytails as Eiji looks at her. “I wanna look _cool._ And Pops is awful at it.”

 _“They were fine.”_ Ash huffs indignantly and goes back into the bathroom, and he can hear the sound of water running. _“Not my fault you’re a fussy brat._ ”

“No, she’s right, Ash. This is _absolutely_ terrible. What were you even trying to do? This looks like Sweeny Todd meets Daoism.” There’s another huff from the bathroom. Eiji shakes his head with an upturned smile and rolls up his sleeves. “Now, I think your hair may be a bit too short for fishtail-twin-tails,” he says, referencing her floofy, bobbed brown hair. “But I may be able to do something with _a_ braid for you to make this better.”

“Wait—” Jaden’s eyes begin to shine as she clambers up onto the kitchen table. “You mean you _can_ actually really braid hair?!”

“I have a little sister. It was practically curriculum.”

Fifteen minutes later, he’s fashioned Jaden’s bobbed hair into something of a half-braid into one side and fluffed up the rest with some hairspray that Ash had tossed him. (Almost at his _face._ The _ass._ ) He’s just about to slide a normal bobby-pin to keep the braid in place, when he pauses and pulls out the star-shaped ones instead.

“Do you want these?”

Jaden’s eyes widen. “ _Yes, please!_ Where did you get those?”

Eiji is _very_ aware that Ash’s eyes are on him from the bathroom, looking at him through the mirror. “They’re my younger sister’s. Well, they were. She used to visit me when she was a teenager, and I didn’t want to throw them away, but now she’s too big for them. I figured you could use them better than me.”

Eiji slides the golden star clips to secure the braid and takes a step back. “Well?”

Jaden hops off the chair and go into the bathroom. Eiji’s awash with vindication as he hears Jaden gasp. “ _Whoah!_ Pops—Pops, look, look at it! I look _awesome!”_

Ash’s low chuckle makes Eiji’s toes curl. He can see him grin in the reflection of the mirror before he kneels to Jaden’s height. “Not bad.”

Jaden sticks her tongue out. “You’re just sayin’ that ‘cuz you _sucked_ at it.”

Ash pokes her in the nose and hurries her into the bathroom. “Go brush your teeth already. And set the timer! Don’t think I haven’t noticed you stealing more sweets and hiding the wrappers under your bed.”

There’s a horrified gasp as Ash comes out of the bathroom. _“How did you know?!”_

“I’m your Dad. I know _all_ ,” Ash says with a grin, stretching to his ears as Jaden slams the door in a huff.

He gives Eiji a knowing look before going over to the kettle and pouring himself another mug of coffee—there’s a growing line by the sink, and most of them look freshly used—and sliding Eiji a mug, before leaning against the counter and giving pause.

“You didn’t have to come,” Ash mutters over another sip.

Eiji takes a seat on the kitchen chair and shrugs, holding his steaming mug in both hands and staring down at his reflection. “I didn’t want to leave Jaden at the mercy of your terrible hair-styling skills. Someone ought to help her out.”

Ash hums over his mug. There’s still stubble on his face. “Still,” he reasons. “I appreciate it.”

“Oh, you’d better,” Eiji teases, sticking his glasses onto his head so the steam from the coffee won’t fog it up. Better to make Ash’s pinned-back hair and golden stubble as blurry as he can, too. “I believe _someone_ promised me breakfast in exchange for this.”

“ _Fuck,_ I did—”

 _“SWEAR JAR!”_ Jaden yells from the bathroom, though obviously with her toothbrush in her mouth.

Ash winces, taking out a dime and tossing it into the jar. It’s half-full. “Look, I can do it after I—we’ve got to run down to the bus stop to get Jaden to school in a bit—my car’s still out at the shop.” Ash looks down to check his watch. “This is the first time in a while we’ve been on-time.”

The words slip out before Eiji can even stop himself. “I came here in my car. Do you want a ride?”

Ash narrows his eyes into a glare, the cup still is drawn over his mouth. “Why offer?”

It’s like there’s a spotlight on Eiji whenever this man questions his basic human decency. Like any offer is Eiji’s attempt to worm into his personal life and—well, granted, what Jaden let slip, about Ash having to _leave all his friends behind_ just to help her…

Maybe his hesitance makes sense.

Ash may have already taken a huge personal gamble, inviting Eiji into his life this much. Eiji may think Ash is a bit of an ass who needs to grow up, but he _loves_ his daughter and Eiji… can’t help but be fond of the two. He wants to help.

So, he puts his coffee mug on the table and looks right up at Ash. “Because I want to. There’s no special reason. Take it or leave it, _Ash._ ”

An embarrassed tint gently peppers Ash’s cheeks as he downs his coffee, like it's a shot of liquid courage. Reminds him of Kaori before she asked out Akira for the first time, all those years ago.

“Sure. Alright,” Ash mutters, turning his back to Eiji and shoving all the mugs into the sink with a little more force than necessary. “Thanks.”

Eiji takes his coffee cup, sees his own reflection smiling back at him. “No problem, Ash.”

* * *

Awkwardness weighs Eiji down more than the metal plate screwed into his ankle when he and Ash reach a nearby coffee place for that breakfast. He’s trying _everything_ to make the limp as discrete as possible, but the way Ash shoves one hand in his pocket and holds the door open with the other is enough for Eiji to flush out of shame.

(It wasn’t helped by running into Ibe as he dropped off Jaden, Ash still strapped in the front seat. She’d grabbed her little rabbit and cheered a nice goodbye to the both of them when Ibe had heard the familiar name and spotted Eiji’s car before approaching.

“Ei-chan? What are you doing here?” Ibe had scolded, shaking his head. “I told you, today is your day off! Maxine will be helping me out later.”

Thus, had led to the awkward spiraling of explaining not only _who_ Ash was, but that they were now apparently _friends,_ and, at least judging by the dismayed on some of the parent’s expressions, _taking Ash out on a date._

The _ass_ himself didn’t say anything.)

They order. They sit. They drink.

Eiji wants to change his name, wants to hide away in the rain and watch the sparrows before leaning to fly. Maybe he’ll be an Icarus. He wouldn’t mind falling for the 3rd time in his life whilst attempting to fly.

“Uh…” Ash clears his throat, hiding behind his vanilla latte. “I should—apologise.”

Eiji adjusts his glasses; plays with the hem of his sweater sleeves under the table. “For what?”

“For—not saying anything earlier.” The apology looks like it’s causing Ash physical pain—or, maybe, he really _is_ just that awkward socially. “Jaden’s been having… a bit of trouble with people at school. Quite a few of them have been hounding her for my details. I’ve tried speaking to the teachers—come this close to threatening them. I did kind of use you for that assumption. They may back off now.”

“Oh.”

Ash purses his lips and takes a sip of his drink. “You bothered by it?”

“What? No. If it was to help your kid, I don’t care. Say what you want about me. I know how nasty schools can be for kids.”

“Oh. That’s—alright. Yeah. Thanks.”

He and Ash are synchronized as they take another uncomfortable sip of their drinks and look anywhere but each other’s faces. Eiji’s surprised that the tea here tastes as nice as it does. It’s even more guilt on his shoulders that Ash insisted on paying for it.

Eiji insists on people-watching instead.

This place is mainly empty; picture any cute coffee shop with books piling high, comfortable chairs with worn-down seats, and overworked baristas gossiping behind the coffee machines, and that’s this place. Ash already grabbed a book he seemed interested in on the way to the counter; several people eyed him up, and there’s a slight rigidity to his back that makes Eiji think it’s something beyond just disinterest.

There’s a bald guy in the corner with a _very_ impressive handlebar mustache and ornate crane tattoos on his head and neck. He’s checking a pocket-watch, of all things, writing something down on his laptop next to a steaming cup of black coffee. There’s a small baby wrapped in a plaid blanket, biting down on a small marshmallow given by their mother and her partner. The mother keeps making odd faces, grinning and exaggerated-eating motions. A crowd of teenager’s cluster in the corner, playing muted music on bad phone speakers, gossiping about mundane tragedies like _homework_ and _rejections—_ okay, Eiji can relate to the last one very well.

Eiji’s eyes drift to Ash and notice that Ash is looking at _him_ in the reflection of the window. When their eyes meet, Ash snaps his head away and takes another drink.

“What?” Eiji asks, folding his arms. “What are you staring at me for?”

“Nothing,” Ash says in a rush, before tracing his finger around the rim of his mug. “Okay, look. There _is_ something.”

Eiji leans his elbows on the table. “What is it?”

That chewing-glass look is back. “I… you’re nice. To Jaden. And have been to me. Why?”

Well, isn’t _that_ the million-dollar question. Eiji just shrugs, stirring a spoon into his tea. “Honestly?” Ash nods. “You look like you’re struggling a bit. I know what it’s like to move to a completely new place and not know anyone. I think I saw a bit of myself in you.”

Ash frowns. “How do you know I’m new to the area?”

“The fish out of water look? Jaden literally telling me?” Eiji laughs. “Also, you went to _Mak’s Motors._ He’s the _worst_ mechanic in the area. No wonder your car has been out for so long.”

Ash hides a curse in his hand.

The baby in the table over laughs gleefully. More voices join the sea of ambiance as a group of business 20-somethings dash for the counter, desperate for that caffeinated reprieve. The sound of rain outside begins to make the sparrows dash for shelter.

“I… am struggling.”

Eiji looks at Ash slowly. “Yeah?”

Ash sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s kind of a long story. But Jaden, we—I only started seeing her last year. Then her mom, uh, Copper. She died a few months ago.” His hand pauses over his neck, and he looks down. “I don’t really know what I’m doing.”

“I can understand that.” Eiji leans one elbow on the table, puts another hand on Ash’s arm. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re doing okay considering the circumstances. Jaden clearly feels safe and happy with you.”

There’s a red tint to Ash’s cheeks as he scoffs and looks away. “Don’t—you’re so _weird._ ”

Eiji doesn’t lift his hand; a grin grows on his face. “Maybe. And yet you were the one who asked _me_ to help with her braids. So, Ash, you cannot find me _that_ intolerable.”

Ash shoots him a slit-eyed scowl before it melts and he—

Oh.

Ash laughs. Eiji curls his toes.

_I’m in trouble._

“Fucking weirdo.” Ash’s hand goes back to the table, but his other arm doesn’t move. “Look, I was… I think you were right. When you gave me your number the other week? It might—help me and Jaden. To have someone here I can… lean on? And she already seems to like you.”

Eiji blinks, slow and drawn out.

“…What.” Ash’s shoulders hunch. “ _Say_ something.”

Eiji leans his chin on his hand and _grins._ “You’re asking to be my _friend?_ ”

More heat flares to Ash’s cheeks and he brushes Eiji’s hand away. “You are _such_ a little shit. Why do you have to tease me like this? I’m trying to be earnest, here!”

“Hate to say it, but friends _do_ rib on each other from time-to-time.” Eiji shakes his head and pokes Ash’s forehead with two fingers. “So, I guess you will just have to get used to it. Man up, would you?”

There’s conflict on Ash’s face. Like he can’t tell whether or not to punch Eiji or feel pleased that his little question got the desired result. He just rolls his eyes at Eiji, and reaches for his latte, downing it like a shot. Eiji holds his own cup tight in his hands, feeling the condensation under his fingertips as he fights his own smile.

“So…” Ash begins, tapping his finger against the table. “Are you free Saturday?”

Outside, the rain begins to clear; dawn in the monsoon season shines through and reflects from Ash’s jade eyes. The smile on his face leaves little crinkles near his mouth and eyes. Eiji’s a little struck, before nodding.

“Mm. I am. Why?”

“Nothing, really.” Ash hums from behind his mug. “Just nice to know. In case something comes up.”

Eiji glances down, adjusts his glasses, and smiles. “Yeah. Just in case.”

Sunlight glints off of Eiji’s glasses. The rain falls no more for that day, and Detroit is waking up to the midday rush. Each frantic footstep is Eiji’s heartbeat, reverberating throughout this spread-out city.

Something is unfolding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art was done by https://www.instagram.com/lolo_locooo/ ! Give her love. :)


	3. tomorrow's song

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :) See if you can figure out the cipher in this chapter.
> 
> I want to make clear that any mistakes I made regarding Jaden and Copper being Jewish, I am HAPPY to rectify. Whilst I did do research, I am always aware that representing any group that isn't your own is prone to stereotyping or misinformation, and I am completely open to changing that.
> 
> The subplot with Jaden being discriminated against purely on the basis of her skin colour was written BEFORE the current climate of the BLM movement (something I wholly endorse, it's gone on for far too long), and is directly lifted from experiences of family members who have also suffered this kind of discrimination. Whilst I will not alter the content itself, if I have made any mistakes/errors/offensive language in the presentation, I implore concrit! I cannot grow in my writing unless I get feedback unfiltered. However, I feel like if I didn't challenge myself to write more diversely, then that is just living in a white-bread, cookie-cutter world.

Sometimes, Ash falls into old memories.

Since going into hiding with Jaden, it hasn’t happened often. The nightmares creep into his sleep, true; but he’s made a concentrated effort to sleep even lighter since Jaden made the habit of crawling into his bed to escape _her_ nightmares; he’s fine to just catch an hour or two before picking her up from school.

Yet, sometimes, it happens. It’s rarer that it’s a _good_ memory that he slips into.

Jaden’s in her room sorting through her homework (a waste of time if he’s honest; half the time they don’t even look. _Help me, help me,_ he’d scribbled into his homework diary. Always ignored), and Ash dusts the bookshelves that Eiji helped him put together last Saturday.

There’s a growing collection of Japanese-to-English books. Jaden’s caught an interest in learning since Eiji’s become… Ash’s friend.

That’s something he’s still ruminating on.

Ash is shuffling them around to dust when one falls onto the floor by his feet. Ash bends down to pick it up, only to freeze once he takes a good look at the cover.

It’s a battered up old copy of _How I Became a Nun._

White spots fill his vision for a moment, and suddenly, it’s a blistery New York winter’s evening.

Ash is three months free from juvie, from being caged in with the rabid dogs, and freedom’s in a golden afternoon stolen away from Golzine’s prying eyes and wandering hands. Gone, for a moment, are the nights where he’s stuck tied to a bed waiting, waiting, waiting. Waiting.

Always stuck waiting.

(Ash hates headboards with a fucking passion. Why bother making them ornate and beautifully carved if they just get sanded down with twined ropes.

It makes no sense.)

Just for an afternoon, he’s free to be normal.

Shorter introduced Ash to his sister, Nadia, three weeks ago; and now here the three of them sit in her restaurant, the _CLOSED_ sign battering against the glass door like ghosts pleading to be let in. Honestly, the _Chang Dai,_ hidden deep in the golden hues of Chinatown’s back alleys and sun-bleached sign postings, is nothing special; it may as well be ramshackle tenements next to the Ritz, with how unassuming it is.

Of her own volition, Nadia Wong is the colour behind the monochrome-washed streets; she, the kindness that draws Ash in like a moth to a flame, and there’s a glass barrier so his wings don’t get burned.

Nadia yanks Shorter’s ear when he sits upon the counter like the broken-down car he and Ash share a coke on, in those stolen moments when gang violence isn’t at the forefront of their existence; looks at him on the sly as she sneaks Ash extra helpings of her infamous egg bowl rolls. Nadia just smirks when Shorter complains that Ash is the new favourite.

Now he’s tucked up in a booth in the corner as Shorter mops the floor (something about bringing dirt in again; he whined, but Nadia took none of his shit. Ash just laughed behind a menu), flicking through another book he plucked from the library’s shelves.

Some tend to fall down the back, discarded, pages sun-bleached from abandonment.

Ash has an old copy of _The Shawshank Redemption_ stuffed into a bag at the bottom of Shorter’s closet that he perused last month.

Talking of the guy, Shorter’s voice whinnies through moments later. “Fuck, Nadia, I’ve mopped these floors _twice_ now! How much more bleach do you want on these floors?” Shorter rests his hands on the top of the mop handle and presses his temples onto his hands. His entire posture is wilting. “Fucking _heathen.”_

Ash snorts behind his book. Shorter picked up that word from him during juvie.

 _“As long as it takes you to get rid of your mess!”_ Nadia’s reproach makes even Ash feel guilty by association with Shorter. His friend, on the other hand, just rolls his eyes. _“You’re the one who spilled pure cola syrup on the floor behind the counter, so you’ll be the one to clean it up!”_

“Just wanted to mix it in with a cocktail…” Shorter mutters, dunking the mop back in and splatting it on the floor without so much as a rinse. Bubbles spread out all over the floor, filling small cracks in the tiles. “She is so my _Mom._ ”

_“I heard that, Wong! You’re going to drive me to an early grave!”_

“Then try not frowning so much, you look like _Dad!”_

_“Which means I’ve got more balls than you, evidently! Now mop.”_

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Few people can get Shorter Wong to admit defeat; even fewer to do their bidding. Even Ash has to tug on his ear to get him to hand over the last dumpling whenever he steals an hour for lunch. Greedy bastard.

Ash is still smiling even as his eyes drift back to his book. The translation is, admittedly, shoddy; it’s some Argentinian novel that’s poorly worded, so he looks up the correct translation on his phone and scribbles the correct phrasings in the margins.

Ash empathises with the speaker of this book, he thinks.

 _Don’t all kids like ice cream?_ Most adults remember their childhood as nothing but begging for the stuff. Yet here the narrator is, daring to dislike something naturally, and the incredulous fatalism from his father over not being the norm…

It’s something the father sees as generous, forcing the narrator to try it again _, “another chance.”_

_(Papa gave me another chance after I came out of juvie._

_Always another chance._

_It always hurts more the second time around.)_

Static sometimes fills his brain, injected right in the temple. Drowns his eyes in white specs, like lint in sunlight; follows it, desperate to ground himself, the pages crinkle underneath his nails—

And the white specs follow toward the door as the glass rattles with a desperate knock.

Ash doesn’t jump in his seat, but his hand immediately goes to his hip; Shorter’s in a similar stance and backed up against the wall, signaling for Nadia to duck, until he lifts his shades to see just _who’s_ at the door.

“Wait, is that— _Copper?”_

 _“Yes, yes!”_ Nadia’s voice bellows from back in the kitchen _. “Let her in, Shorter, I’m expecting her and Skip! She’s got a delivery to pick up.”_

“ _Now?”_ Ash says, incredulous, but Shorter just waves him off.

The shadow on the door waves, holding up a rucksack; there’s another, smaller shadow behind them, clutching at their arm. Behind the glass, a voice says _, “oi, Wong! Open up already, it’s bloody freezin’!”_

With a cut nod from Shorter, Ash steadies his hand, fingers curling back around his book. Like the Lynx that’s slowly becoming his new moniker, Ash keeps his eyes trained on those shadows from his booth; they slit when Shorter pulls the door open and two people take a step inside, snow dusting their coats, slushing as it falls onto the floor.

There’s a girl around his age—Copper, he guesses—who enters first and shivers, pulling off her red scarf and a cream-knitted hat; she’s got an impressive amount of braids half-pulled into a bun, the rest falling to her waist as she untucks it.

Ash glares when the girl hits her scarf and coat against Shorter’s chest, lips perked in a Cheshire smile. “Hang these up for me, would you, Wong?”

A younger boy trots in after her, the snow on his short-cropped afro looking like coconut frosting; Ash can’t help but smile a little when he _lights_ up seeing Shorter. A small hint of white teeth shows when the boy grins and points. “You’re bald again!”

Shorter just tosses Copper’s coat on the chair into one of the nearby booths. “Can’t exactly afford hair dye in juvie, Skip.”

The boy—Skip? Copper? Makes sense _Shorter_ would be friends with people with _those_ fucking names—just folds his hands behind his head and leans against the wall. Ash pushes his book away to watch the scene. “Why not just smuggle it in again? You did it last time.”

“Yeah, and last time they _caught_ me because I was ratted out and they saw my roots—”

“How did _anyone_ believe you were a natural blond?”

“Not my fault the cops were gullible as shit, Skip. Got an extra three weeks in there when I was found out though.”

“Serves you right, Wong. You were almost out, and you caught ‘cuz you were a moron.”

Shorter just rolls his eyes underneath those shades of his and flicks her forehead, and Ash watches as this girl—probably no older than him—brushes Shorter off.

Copper folds her arms and stares right at Skip. “Straight’n yourself up and be polite, Skipper. We aren’t at home.”

“Ugh, _fine,”_ Skip groans, in a way that Ash thinks, _he doth do protest too much._ It’s in that little insincere way he has seen other, more normal kids do when being scolded by their parents. Kind of endearing if Ash is honest. Skip just pushes himself off of the wall and takes off his own coat, and notices Ash sat there in the corner, pointing. “Who’s that?” He asks.

“Honestly, _Skipper—”_ Copper gently takes his wrist and pushes it down, eyeing Ash with a little skepticism. “Don’t point at people you don’t know, it’s rude.”

 _And the quickest way to anger people around here._ The words left unspoken on everyone’s tongues but the ignorant and the innocent.

“He’s a friend of mine.” Shorter slings an arm around Skip and Copper; she grimaces, Skip just brightens again. “Doesn’t talk much to new people, unfortunately.”

“Charmed,” Ash clips, eyes drifting back down to his book.

Copper and Skip retreat out back to the kitchen when Nadia calls them without much of a backward look towards Ash, (though Skip beams at him; Ash returns it with a half-hearted smile) which suits him fine; Shorter just shoots him an apologetic look and shrugs as he follows the two siblings on, ducking into the door as the talk becomes muffled in the kitchen.

He’s known Shorter to do this from time-to-time, to help out kids in the lower echelons of Chinatown and the surrounding suburbs, but it’s surprising that one is actually _here_. Shorter will rarely put Nadia in harm’s way like this, so those kids, in particular, he must have a soft spot for.

Ash knows there’s one kid he’s taken a shine to lately as well, though Shorter is pretty frosty with the kid’s older brother. Ash once joked that Shorter would make a pretty good Dad, even dresses the part already—he’d gotten a nice shiner on his left eye that’s still healing up nice, fisticuffs their body language of mutual ribbing.

He’s already devoured a few more pages of his book and scribbled in some more notes in the margins when the door swings wide-open again. Ash’s eyes drift up, just to observe out of idle curiousity—but nonchalant in reaction when he sees that there’s only Copper standing there, putting a few wrapped-up takeaway boxes into her patchy rucksack and zipping it up.

Copper seems to feel his eyes on her back and looks over her shoulder. “Nadia helps us out sometimes,” she explains, gesturing to the bag, curling her lip. “I’m no freeloader.”

“Didn’t say anything.”

Copper’s eyes narrow in disbelief. “I’m not stupid, Goldilocks. You think you’re the first white boy I’ve seen glaring at me like that?”

 _Ah. Right._ Ash clears his throat and holds up his hands. “If that classes you as a freeloader, we’re both in the same boat,” Ash explains. “Why else d’you think I’m here?”

Copper’s eyes scan over Ash for a moment. “Shorter brings a lotta’ people back here to fuck. Sometimes they demand dinner. Boy has no means of success in either skill.” There’s a hint of fondness in her voice when she sighs out a, “dumb harlot.”

A snort escapes Ash despite himself. “In his fucking _dreams.”_

But, see, even if he doesn’t expressly say it, there’s a ticket he’s offering up to this girl here; Copper sees it, takes it, saunters over and slides into the other side of his booth. Up close, he can see that half of her left ear has been cut off and healed. She’s got dark freckles on her cheeks and thick black eyebrows.

“Where’s Skip?”

Copper points upwards, to where the Wong’s apartment is above the restaurant with her finger. There’s no fingernail on that one. “Shorter’s showing him some old CD’s he got for a steal. I wasn’t in the mood to listen to Skip’s tone-deaf screeching any more than I had to, so I’m waiting down here whilst Nadia’s on the phone to her suppliers.”

“Have you known them long?”

“Two years now, I think?” Copper ruminates before nodding. “Yeah, ‘bout that long. Skip ‘n I met Shorter back in middle-school before he dropped out.” Copper raises an eyebrow like it’s been caught on a fishhook. “You?”

“Not long.” Ash shrugs, brings the book back up higher. “Met him ‘few months back.”

“Ah. So, you’re his ‘lil juvie buddy. Ash, right?” Ash shoots her a glare and narrows his eyes at her again, but Copper just shrugs. “What? I talk with Nadia. Not hard to piece it together, golden boy.”

Copper rests her chin on her hands, fingers crossed neatly. There’s a smug little grin on her face.

“What,” Ash clips.

“Shorter’s adopted you too, huh.”

Colour suffuses his cheeks and turns his attention back to his book. “Fuck off.”

“He totally has.”

Ash scowls and pulls his book up to cover his face. “I said, _fuck off._ ”

She completely ignores him and instead trains her gaze on the cover of his book, which startles him. “Is that by _César Aira?_ ” Copper peers in closer to his book, braids pooling on the table. Ash notices there’s little flowers—daisies—adorning some of them. _How cutesy._ “It _is!_ I loved that book as a kid.”

Ash does not _dare_ to move from the false shelter of the book but lowers it just a little to show her his eyes. “You’ve read it?”

“A lifetime ago. Back when me and Skip lived on the Mar del Plata.”

“You’re from Argentina?”

Copper grins, swipes her thumb over her top lip and points at herself. Ash lowers the book a little more. “Born ‘n raised, ‘till we moved here back in ’07.” Copper taps her finger against the table. “That’s a shoddy translation.”

“Yeah, I know. I… was making notes on it.” Ash rests his chin on the spine; he feels the pages dig into his skin and leave imprints. “Referencing online, uh…”

Underneath the table, Ash can feel the wind-rush of Copper’s feet kicking back-and-forth against the parts of his legs exposed by his cuffed pants. Copper wears brown ankle-boots with golden paint splatters on the toe; he hears the way they scuff against the floor.

And Copper’s looking at Ash, fingers folded underneath each other as her chin rests on them, with a coy, little smile, like a cat ready to pounce.

She’s so _weird._

“I—”

The door leading to the apartment above the _Chang Dai_ swings open; Skip, true to his namesake, skips on down from the stairs with an armful of CDs. Shorter kicks open the door with his foot after, just grinning as the kid rushes over to their booth and pours them all into Copper’s backpack.

“Yo, Copper! Check out all this swag I got!”

Copper dangles her arm over the back of the chair and groans. More white flowers fall to the floor. “If it’s _more_ Dropkick Murphy’s—”

“ _Ugh.”_ Skip just sticks his tongue out at her. “That’s not _all_ Shorter listens to.”

 _No, it isn’t,_ Ash thinks, a little amused. _Sometimes he blasts K-Pop at 3AM to drown out his latest drunken one-night stand. Does he really think Nadia doesn’t know about all that?_

“I’ll be shipping _you_ off to Boston if you blast it at full volume again.” Copper twerks Skip’s nose with her finger and thumb; the kid scrunches up his face and adorably tries to bat her off. “Come on, get your coat on. We’ve gotta hit the next bus to be back ‘fore the creeps prowl out.”

 _“Fine.”_ Skip glances at Ash with a grin and waves. “Nice meetin’ you too, Ash!”

Ash just raises a hand to wave back at him, watching as the kid dashes off back to the rack and slings his coat back on. Copper slides out of the booth, puts a hand on the table, and tilts her head. A few of the flowers adorning her hair fall onto Ash’s lap.

“See you around, golden boy.” Copper gestures to the book with a nod of her head. “Keep up the readin’, alright? You may teach Shorter a thing or two, and fuck _knows_ he needs a good influence.”

Then, like shadows snuffed out by daylight, the two disappear into the blistery gales. The door swings closed after they bid their goodbyes to Shorter and Nadia, and Ash is left with a book half-open on his lap, and small white flowers in clusters over his hands.

Dazed, he picks one up—notices that it’s baby’s breath, not daisies. Like snow, dusted onto his hands.

Another shadow covers the trail that Copper, and Skip left behind, and Shorter’s peering at him from behind his shades with a contemplative look.

“What,” Ash clips.

“Nothing, nothing. Just…” Shorter cups his chin, humming to himself for a moment, before the little shit _grins_ at him, waggling his eyebrows suggestively _._ “She _is_ single, y’know.”

Heat suffuses his cheek and Ash opts to fling his book right at his best friend’s smug face. “Oh, fuck _off!”_

(The snow was furious that night; it blew open the shutters in Golzine’s quarters to the point of frustration. It saved him another night of pain.

He’s always liked the snow.)

“Pops?”

Ash blinks out of his reverie; he’s sat at the kitchen table, and there’s a little girl who shares his eyes staring at him, nudging his arm. Ash puts the book aside and swivels around; leans forward so he’s at Jaden’s eye-level.

“What is it?” Ash asks her, gently, but it tapers off when Jaden holds her arms up. Ash immediately lifts her up into his lap, and Jaden’s kicking her feet back and forth for a moment before tucking them up onto the chair and leaning her ear against Ash’s thrumming heart.

Ash holds his daughter tighter.

Jaden twists her hands into his shirt, her large glasses being pushed to the top of her head and she curls into him like he’s the last platform in a collapsing world. It’s only just dawned on Ash that there’s white tape between the lenses, resting on the bridge of her nose.

Outside, Detroit’s autumn folds into winter; the leaves fly off and get stuck in nooks and crannies of their apartment complex. It’s detoxing the city of its last stray remnants of summer heat.

“Jaden? Are you alright?”

But Jaden says nothing to his concern; instead, she falls silent for the rest of the evening, even when they share dinner later on.

At one point, Ash thinks he sees her open her mouth to say something, but it snaps shut the moment he looks her way.

The battered book lays on the table, forgotten.

* * *

If he’s honest, Ash isn’t sure how they got here.

Eiji hadn’t been kidding when he said _Mak’s Motors_ had been the worst-rated mechanic in the area fo a reason. It’s been weeks since he sent his car for repair, and it was still basically out of commission when he got it back—fuck, even getting it returned to him had been a hassle more than it was worth.

After the whole catastrophe, he’s just opted to scrap it after the condition it was in was _worse_ than when he’d given it to the damned bastard in the first place.

And, yeah, it wasn’t the greatest car, having scraped it from a dodgy dealership so that Copper would even _have_ a car for her and Jaden to begin with. But having to scrap something that was one of the few physical things left of Copper…

Well, yeah.

It hurts.

Ash still remembers when she hit the steering wheel with both hands, crying out in joy after passing her test. Jaden had been babbling in the back, just shy of a year old and jumping up and down in the car seat that Shorter had strapped her in.

Fuck, he misses Shorter. He misses Copper. He misses Skip.

Ash misses New York. Misses the melting pot cosmopolitan streets; yearns for the graffiti and permeating stinks of people littering up the subway. As much as he’s trying, Detroit just isn’t _home._

Now he’s waiting on a street corner outside his workplace, scrolling through an aimless feed of news on his new phone. Leaning against red bricks, his black hoodie slung over him with one shoulder exposed. Ash is resisting the urge to run a hand through his hair—it took him ages to pin it back and he cannot be _fucked_ to restyle it.

Habitually, he takes the slip of paper out of his pocket. The one with the address of the apartment he now calls _home._

_#12 Riverfront Apartments, 48226._

And, for a moment, he wonders. Wonders if this is what Copper went through; shitty underpaid job after underpaid shitty job, trying to provide for her kid alone; to juggle life between leaving Jaden with Nadia or Shorter, or whatever friend she could trust with her kid whilst she pulled in more hours to make ends meet.

_Maybe if you hadn’t cut me off, you wouldn’t have had to suffer for so long. I could have helped. I made more money than you._

And he would have thought back in the day, bitter and heartbroken. He did, for the longest time.

Belatedly, he gets it. Nobody wants the father of their child to be someone stuck in the criminal underbelly, no matter how much cash it rakes in.

Copper Garcia is many, many things. She’s undeniably a neat freak, has a stick up her ass about manners and polite presentation. She’s a smug little shit when she proves you wrong, a stubborn bastard to admit when you’re right.

But she is so, so _good._

Now Copper’s dead and buried in some graveyard, her bones becoming soil for spring flowers. Ash wasn’t meant to be a father; was never meant to live past eighteen years old. Ash was supposed to die as he lived: gutter trash.

Ash is all Jaden has left.

Angels love to turn a blind eye to the damned if it doesn’t rake in the glory points.

Ash won’t forget Jim’s words the last time he called; hands trembling to push the quarters into the payphone. Seventeen years old, scared, staggering outside in a hospital gown yet again. Hoping, just for once, just once, that Jim would say something kind to him, even if it was just empty platitudes.

Anything to be a balm to the pain.

Instead, all Ash got was: “ _You’ll fuck that kid up, Ash. You’ll fuck them up and break from the pressure. Just do yourself a favour: walk away from the girl and spare yourself the trouble. You’ll just fuck it up if you try.”_

_Thanks, Dad._

“Ash!”

The glare of his phone screen fades into a blur as he lifts his head to see Eiji pulling into the side of the road, window down and thick eyebrows lifted to his hairline. Ash blinks before he pushes himself off of the wall with his foot, stuffs the note back into his pocket. He tucks his thumb into his jean pocket, waving with his phone in his hand as Eiji does so in kind.

“Did you wait long?” Eiji asks him as Ash climbs into the front passenger’s seat. “I would have been here earlier, but there was a client that needed a longer feedback session and she would _not_ let me clock out on time—”

Ash just tucks his arms behind his head and raises a brow. “How the fuck’re you able to apologise without actually saying the words _I’m sorry?_ Honestly, it’s fine.”

Eiji’s busy fixing the mirror’s position when he narrows his eyes into a scowl. “Why are you so _rude._ ”

Ash just shrugs in his seat, wry grin playing on his lips. “You’re the one who offered to pick me up until I get a new car sorted out.”

“A decision I’m beginning to regret.”

“Okay, then.” Ash just points back to the street with his thumb. “Kick me out.”

And—Ash feels his heart lurch when Eiji smirks at him, eyes glinting behind his unruly bangs. “Oh, I _could_ toss you out of the car if I wanted to. You believe me that I can carry you now, can’t you?”

 _That_ does it. Ash scowls, conversation tapering off into a grumble as he stares out of the window, pointedly _ignoring_ the way his cheeks suffuse with heat. Eiji, claiming his victory, just hums to himself as he finishes fixing the mirror and starts the car back up.

And, see, this is another thing that’s thrown Ash for a loop for the past few weeks.

Eiji’s weird. Like, _really_ weird.

Even disconnected from the gang background, there are few people who would be willing to _openly_ sass Ash, let alone _tease_ him. Ash has that kind of gruff exterior that, whilst physically appealing, makes his personality about as attractive as a dick covered in needles. Few people willing to try it, let alone tolerate it for an extended period of time.

Except for weirdos like Eiji, apparently. It’s always the unassuming ones that are the freakiest.

And the thing that trips him up is that Eiji isn’t just sticking around him for Jaden’s sake as any normal person would. Ash raising a kid would be cause for concern for anyone, but Eiji… doesn’t just linger for the cute kid with a penchant for insulting Ash’s favourite books or nabbing cute hair-slides from street market vendors when she thinks nobody is looking. 

_(Goddammit, Shorter. Copper thought you were the_ good _influence compared to me.)_

No, instead Eiji turns a street corner and _asks Ash about his day._

He blinks out of his reverie, blinking fast for a moment. “Uh… standard, I guess?” Ash shrugs, recovering from the apple cart being upturned and fishes his phone out. Is this how normal people talk in cars? He has no idea. “Not much to say about working in a shitty diner. Not worth the money it pays?”

“Nothing worth mentioning?”

“Uh.” Ash draws a blank. His gun is concealed underneath his shirt; can he just shoot himself in the foot to avoid small talk? _What is with this guy?_ “My co-worker got stood up?”

“That’s a shame.”

Ash snorts, rolling his eyes. “Hardly. She hits on anything with a pulse.”

“Including you?”

“Within seconds of knowing me.”

“Hm, that makes sense.” Eiji eyes him for a moment, before turning a corner. “Still, I do not blame her for being put off the second you opened your mouth. You are a rather incorrigible brat.”

Ash gapes—fucking _gapes—_ at the audacity of this man. “You little shit.”

“Proudly.”

Ash feels his lips turn into a grin, and that’s _another_ thing that keeps throwing him about Eiji. Just how easy it is to _exist_ around him, to smile. Eiji has some sort of—he’s not sure, some kind of fucking spell he casts to lower Ash’s guard. It’s terrifying how receptive Ash is to it.

Enough that he took Eiji’s offer to carpool until he can sort a new car out. Apparently Eiji drives that general direction to work, and Jaden likes Eiji enough that he agrees to let Eiji to drive them home.

There’s no real reason to accept his offer.

Ash just…

Kind of trusts Eiji.

(And the thing is, that’s _terrifying_.)

They arrive at Jaden’s school with mere seconds to spare; she’s already waiting in the playground with a bunch of books in her hands, her backpack stuffed to the brim. It warms Ash’s heart to see her as such an avid reader _already._ Both he and Copper used to butt heads over books—some things are genetic, it seems.

The moment she spies Eiji’s car, she’s waving and _dashing_ toward it just as Ash makes moves to get out, throwing open the door and clambering into the backseat. “Hey, Pops! Hi, Eiji!”

“Jaden, you can’t just keep runnin’ away from school. Wait for me to collect you, alright?”

“ _Pops…”_ Jaden puts her backpack - she nicknames it her _JAGBAG -_ onto the seat next to her and clips herself in, folding her arms _and_ legs in protest. “You _take_ too long, _duh._ ‘sides, I got _work_ to do.”

Ash huffs, Jaden huffs, and it’s grating on his nerve when Eiji _laughs_ about it. “What kind of work is it, Jaden?” Eiji asks her kindly as he starts the car back up again, pulling out into the road. “Is it to do with all those books you have there?”

“Huh?” Jaden looks down at the pile in her arms. “Oh, no. This’s just for fun.”

“Ah, of course.”

Eiji smirks at Ash. _Of course,_ his smug fucking expression reads.

Ash feels his cheeks heat, looking back at Jaden to distract himself. “You got a new project?”

“Mm. Family tree.”

Ash feels his heart lodge in his throat. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Jaden fishes out a peach in her bag and takes a large bite—little brat left it from her lunch again—and speaks past her hand. Juice dribbles down her chin. “Ms. Karen says we gotta put make poster ‘bout our parents ‘n stuff. I didn’t know Mami’s Mommy ‘n Daddy. Didja know ‘em, Pops?”

Ash can feel Eiji’s concerned gaze piercing through every crack in his impenetrable walls. He elects to ignore it and lean on his hand, staring straight out of the window.

“…I didn’t know them, no. She told me about them, though. Ask me later.”

Jaden stops chewing her peach and swallows down the mushy fruit hard. Ash has taught her that _later_ means _not in front of other people._

“Okay,” Jaden murmurs, small and quiet, and begins to flick through her book.

Ash doesn’t notice the way Eiji purses his lips and stares out at the road ahead.

* * *

Eiji’s halfway through finishing up the editing on the brochure picture when he meets her for the first time.

“Excuse me?”

Eiji’s met face-to-face with a woman, maybe early 30’s, in a classy white skirt and black shirt. She’s got her hand on his desk; a friendly disposition in the way she smiles. Still, as he looks at her, Eiji has a chill run up his spine—this is someone he doesn’t want to anger.

“Yes? Can… I help you?”

“You’re Ibe’s boy, right? Eiji?”

A scowl slips onto his expression, but Eiji makes no effort to restrain it. _This is Officer Dickinson all over again._ Seven years of learning to live with the mistaken identity doesn’t quite quell the irritation.

“I am his _co-worker,_ yes,” Eiji corrects with a clipped tone. “How can I help you?”

“Ah, I meant no offense, dear.” _And yet, you still call me dear? I am no child!_ The woman smiles at him and tilts her head. “Shunichi spoke highly of you over the years, I’ve just come to associate you with being his. Is he here?”

Eiji narrows his eyes, trying to stave off a scowl. “Ibe-san is in his office at the moment. There’s a call he needed to take. Who are you?”

“A friend of his from way back.” A perfectly manicured nail slides him a business card, and she waves him off as she heads for the office. “He’ll forgive me for barging in on this call. Nice meeting you, Eiji!”

 _Ugh._ Eiji rolls his eyes and looks at the card.

_Jessica Randy, Allure Magazine._

Has Ibe ever mentioned a Jessica? Not to Eiji’s recollection, but Ibe has contacts and friends scattered all over the globe, so it wouldn’t surprise him. Still, they rarely have the audacity to come into his workplace, barge in on a phone conversation and—

Eiji hides a snort when Jessica _plucks_ the phone out of Ibe’s hand and _waves._

“Oh, I _like_ her,” Maxine says with a grin, on the computer opposite him.

“You’re _married,”_ Eiji reminds her.

Maxine coyly kisses the ring on her finger. “Yeah… but sometimes there’s a nice little piece of eye candy that has you just wanting to dive straight back into the mosh pit. Y’know what I’m saying, shakah bra?”

Eiji does not, in fact, know what she is saying. Years of English aside, the slang _still_ confuses him.

 **Eiji [13:01]  
** _Do your co-workers ever confuse you?_

 **Ash [13:05]  
** _i just caught mine fucking in the broom closet with two customers an hour ago  
so, yeah  
tough day?_

Eiji slaps a hand to his mouth to hide a snort, face turning a little purple. Maxine eyes him suspiciously from behind her computer screen, but grins coyly and gets back to editing.

Eiji guiltily turns back to his phone.

 **Eiji [13:08]  
** _Maybe not as extreme as that?  
My co-worker just said she’d gladly want to fuck someone who just came in.  
She’s married. _

**Ash [13:09]  
** _nah, don’t understand casual shit like that  
was the person hot?_

He replies before he can really think about it.

 **Eiji [13:09]  
** _I’m probably not the best judge on finding women physically attractive, but she wasn’t bad?_

Maxine jumps in her chair when Eiji groans and hits his head on the desk; an unceremonious squeak escaping her lips.

Eiji can hear as she gets up from her chair and gingerly walks over to Eiji, patting his shoulder. It feels like she’s trying to give comfort to hot coal with the way she recoils. “Uh, you okay there, dude?”

“I just outed myself to a guy I’ve become friends with.”

Maxine winces. “Is… that a bad thing?”

_“I have no idea.”_

“You just crushin’ on him, or _hella_ crushing on him?”

Eiji groans louder—breath catching in his throat when his phone vibrates on the counter. Maxine signals to pick it up, and when he nods she swipes to see the full message on the notifications tab on the lock screen.

“Do I need to change my name.”

Maxine bats his shoulder. “Stop being so overdramatic, dumbass. You already changed your name once. Just _read it._ ” Maxine then thrusts the phone into his face and saunters back over to her computer, sliding a little as she sits down, but the grin on her face is, for once, reassuring.

Eiji hesitantly opens his phone, and his heart stutters.

 **Ash [13:14]  
** _huh. fair enough  
_ _i’m not a good judge on either and i’m fuckin bi, so dw about it._

* * *

The next time Ash spies Eiji, it’s in the local library.

He’s perusing articles surrounding Copper’s death, trying to gauge an understanding of the current progress of the investigation. So far, they’ve chalked it down to a home robbery; Charlie, at least, has kept up his word and there’s no mention of Jaden in the tabloids.

Ash owes that man too much. It’s uncomfortable how much he does. One day, _one day,_ he’ll give him what he owes, but for now—

“Ash?”

From behind him, Ash startles but doesn’t flinch. He glances over his shoulder and clicks out of the tab; Eiji’s standing there looking at him quizzically, a few books in his hands in a pile.

Ash leans on his hand and smirks. “Doing some light reading?”

“Huh?” Eiji glances down and laughs. “No, not really. Call this homework.”

Ash takes a closer look at the names of the books on the spines. “Are… you trying to learn more about car mechanics?”

Eiji struggles to keep the balance of all the books in his arms; Ash sighs and pulls out a computer chair next to him, which squeaks as Eiji sits down. There’s a small sigh of relief that he tries to hide under his breath; he favours one ankle to the other.

“My younger sister usually does the upkeep of my car from time-to-time,” Eiji explains, offloading the pile onto the computer desk. “Kaori’s not able to right now, but I showed her pictures of my engine and she’s, in her own words, _ready to disown me._ Hence, studying.”

“Huh. Can’t imagine you as a grease monkey.” 

“Ass.”

Eventually, the conversation tapers off; they drift from computer chairs to a couch in the back, and conversation lulls the image of Copper Garcia, bloodied and bruised, eyes-wide-open whilst their kid sat terrified in a locked closet upstairs.

For a moment, he almost feels _normal._

“So… _Izumo?_ ”

“There we go! You finally pronounced it right.” Eiji reclines further into the sofa and props up one ankle onto his knee. Ash watches him. Eiji’s already discarded his track jacket, just wearing a loose tank underneath. His hair almost looks _black_ in this light, and the way it falls is loose rather than in a ponytail or a bun, cascading over his shoulders, and—

Ash swallows hard, looking away and leaning into the couch himself. _Enough._ “Yeah, yeah. We know you got a kick out of me mispronouncing it.”

“ _Gizmo,_ Ash. Really? This isn’t _Gremlins_.”

Ash flicks Eiji’s forehead, gets a feeling of vindication at Eiji’s indignant cry.

He holds the spot on his temple and _glares._ “You _ass.”_

“Yeah? You’ve mentioned. Got something you wanna tell me?”

“Bastard,” Eiji huffs before his expression melts back into a smile. There’s—warmth. In his eyes.

It’s _weird._

“But—yeah. I’m from Izumo. If you want to get _really_ fancy, you could call it _The Land of The Gods._ ”

Ash puts his elbow on the armrest. “What? Is Izumo just Mount. Olympus?”

“Not quite,” Eiji laughs. “But we do have around 8 million of them.”

“Wh—”

“Including ones for toilets.”

“I…” Ash gapes at Eiji for a good, long moment. “What the _fuck._ Who even needs a God for something that _specific?_ What, you pray to it, so your shit won’t come out painful?”

“Well, no. The legend goes that the God was born out of the shit of the Goddess of the Earth and Dark, so people prayed to him for a plentiful harvest, and not to fall _into_ their own shit.”

Somehow, Eiji is recounting this to him like he’s sat in school, completely non-plussed. Ash is left with a slack jaw, threatening to disconnect from his own skull and drop into his lap.

Yeah, Ash was right.

Eiji is a fucking _weirdo._

* * *

Eiji has two window browsers open in work today.

One is editing the photographs Ibe recently took of the children’s picture day. There are 20 students in the year he was commissioned to do, each with varying states of losing their baby teeth, experimental phases with their hair, or uniforms showing their growth spurts or lack thereof.

Eiji clicks to the next one, and his heart stutters.

Staring back at him is a straight-faced _Jaden Ashton._ Her eyes are the same vivid green as her father’s, and there’s a hint of her lost baby tooth starting to poke through. Puppy fat on her cheeks. Bags under her eyes. Her dark skin still shows a hint of freckles, and there’s a scar on her left cheek.

Ash’s whole name, as far as he knows, is _Christopher Ashton._ They look similar, even with the obvious physical differences.

“Isn’t that the daughter of your friend, Ei-chan?” Ibe says, putting an arm on the top of Eiji’s chair. “Poor thing. She looked so miserable in that school when I took her picture.”

“She did?”

Ibe hums and nods. “Well, maybe miserable is the wrong word. Lonely, I’d say.”

Eiji thinks back to the few trips he’s seen Jaden on with her class. Clutching that stuffed rabbit of hers— _Pineapple_ he remembers endeared—and how she was trailing behind the rest of the children in their pre-determined clusters of friendship groups.

How much she clings to her father, how much she latched onto him once Ash opened up.

Ibe pats him on the back and goes back to work, and Eiji furrows his brows.

_Lonely._

Like father like daughter, huh?

Eiji minimizes the photograph of Jaden, but it’s sitting there comfortably in his retina; the next tab he opens up with the search engine, he types in _how to be a friend to a single parent and_ presses the search button.

* * *

“Pops! _Pops!”_

There’s a voice that keeps calling out to him in his head. It’s a nice voice, one that he adores, Ash thinks, but he grumbles and turns over whilst hiding his head in the pillow. The throes of sleep are too tempting to ignore, and he’s sinking in the bed.

Just… five more minutes.

“ _Pops!”_

Something tugs on the blanket; Ash groans again and curls up. “…Innaminute,” he mumbles whilst batting the thing tugging on his duvet away. After a moment or two, he lets off a sigh of relief and settles into the covers again when it seems to have paid off.

There’s quiet for a bit longer; something tuts, maybe taps against the wooden floorboards, but Ash can ignore that—

“Pops, you gotta wake up now! Eiji’s gonna be ‘ere any second!”

—Ash’s eyes suddenly shoot open as he practically _falls_ out of bed in an ungraceful _heap_ on the floor.

Standing over him, wearing the most _impish_ little grin he’s ever seen on her, Jaden stands with her hands on her hips. “I knew you fancied ‘im.”

Ash’s shocked expression turns into a slit-eyed glare. “You’re grounded.”

“I know that means jack, Pops!” Jaden claps her hands and points to the kitchen. “C’mon, you said you’d help me do my family tree project. It’s been _ages._ ”

And that’s how, on a _Sunday fucking morning,_ Ash finds himself sitting in his kitchen whilst his kid kicks her legs back and forth like she just shot a bullseye at the county fair. Jaden’s sat there, sipping on some freshly squeezed orange juice and nibbling some fresh fruit on a plate, surrounded by colourful scraps of paper.

It is too fucking _early._

Ash feels like the dead as he downs a cup of black coffee—god, this shit is disgusting—and rubs his scruff of a beard on his jaw. “Alright,” he sighs, pulling out the chair next to her. “Lay it on me, you little brat. Whaddya need to do for this?”

Jaden’s already pulling out a huge A3 piece of paper with a half-colored-in green tree. “We gotta put in our family and tell some stories ‘bout them.” She pauses, the paper crinkling as she bawls her fists. “But we can’t put our real names in there, can we. ‘Cuz of the people who hurt Mami.”

It breaks his heart and makes it glow with pride how fucking _smart_ this kid is. Even if it concerns their stupid predicament.

“We can smudge details,” he compromises. “You’re good at remembering things to say, right?”

“Yeah! Shorter used to teach me the puppy eyes to get free candy.”

Ash massages his temples. “And Copper called _me_ the bad influence… alright, who’ve you got so far?”

Jaden’s pudgy little finger points. “There’s you, ‘n Mami. You said you had a brother, so I put Uncle Griff, and um… I know Mami’s Mami was called my middle name, Alba. I dunno ‘bout Mami’s Papa, though. Oh! And I put Uncle Shorter and Aunty Nadia. Does Alex count, too? I wasn’t sure.”

Ash looks at the paper, long and hard.

“Um, Pops?”

“You didn’t put Skipper on here?”

“Um…” Jaden tilts her head, brows furrowing, and what she says next makes his heart turn to _ice_. “Who’s Skipper?”

As the night creeps up on them, as Ash attempts to sleep, the night is shattered by past hauntings of hearing her mother die. Now, Ash and Jaden lie on the floor underneath the window, the stars veiled by stormy overcast. Jaden’s glasses being off of her face are probably making everything seem murky and grey; Ash keeps her in his arms so she can feel a bit more warmth.

“Pops?”

“What is it, kid?”

“I don’t mean to be bad.”

A soft laugh escapes his throat, and Ash shakes his head. “You’re not bad because you get scared, Jaden. I’m the bad one because I don’t know how to help you.”

Jaden’s lip curls. “You ain’t _bad_ , stupid.”

There’s a part of his heart that rocks, the desperate need for validation from anyone, and now it’s crying out with joy over his own kid saying he isn’t bad. For a moment, Ash selfishly basks in that warmth, lets it suffuse all over his body like he’s swallowed, warm honey—

And then Ash violently stomps it down. _If she ever found out who you used to be—_

Ash stops. Holds Jaden tighter. Breathes.

In the quiet of Jaden’s bedroom, with the glowing stars stuck to the white ceiling, Jaden whispers, “I never knew I had an uncle Skipper. Mami never talked about ‘im. Was he bad?”

Ash’s heart lodged in his chest like a stone, weighing him down until he’s drowning.

Ash rolls over onto his side so he can look Jaden in the eye. “Skipper wasn’t bad.”

“Then why did she never talk ‘bout him? I don’t get it.”

Ash brushes Jaden’s bangs back, fingers brushing against the large scar on her cheek. It took weeks to heal after he found her hiding in that closet, and even now, he knows it’s going to be permanent, staring at her every time she looks in the mirror.

There’s so much of Copper and Skipper in her face, it’s crazy.

“Your Mami…” Ash muses on how to say it, carding a hand through her hair. “Skipper was everything to her, back when we were little. Her parents—your grandparents, they weren’t there to look after them, so Copper looked after Skipper until Uncle Shorter and Aunty Nadia helped them out. It probably hurt her to talk about him.”

“Hurt? I thought remembering good people helped.”

“It does, sometimes. Other times…” Ash sighs and sits up, bringing Jaden into his lap. “Other times, it’s just too painful. I don’t know why she never talked about him.”

“Did you know Skipper good, Pops?”

Those big eyes are staring at him like he has all the answers. It dazes Ash, a little; to have someone have so much faith in him. He wasn’t meant to live this long, but he can do it for her. If nothing else.

“Yeah, I did. I loved him a lot.” Ash smiles and nudges her. “And I do know he _really_ loved you.”

Jaden _gasps_ in delight _._ “He knew ‘bout me?! But—but I wasn’t there, was I?”

_He’s the one who chose your middle name, ‘Alba.’_

“You were a really little baby,” Ash rectifies, his heart squeezing with fondness over her happiness. “I was the one who told him your Mami had you in her tummy. He was the best uncle to you. He used to buy you all your toys.”

Jaden’s smile doesn’t falter, stretching from ear-to-ear. “Wow…” She falters a bit, after a moment. “So, he’s up in the sky with Mami now? With the angels?”

“Yeah. Yeah, he is.”

“…I hope he teaches Mami how to fly.”

And this—this ends up jogging something in his memory. It’s not something he wants to recall, not really. This memory is too soaked in blood for him to really enjoy, but he can make it a fairy-tale for her “You wanna know somethin’? Your Mami has the best teacher with your uncle Skipper.” Ash nudges her side. “Because one time, me and Skip saw a flying man.”

If eyes could sparkle, Jaden’s are _fireworks._ “What?! But—people aren’t birds!”

“This one was. We were… uh, there was a place we couldn’t get out of. We were there with another boy.” The name of that boy eludes him to this day—there were too many things going on, too much blood spilled. But the way Jaden’s gripping onto his jacket, he feels compelled to try. “And there was a big wall blocking us between getting out and going somewhere safe.”

“What happened?” 

“Me and Skip were trying to think of ways to get out—climb, dig, that sort of thing.” _Give myself up, let Marvin have his way with me,_ he doesn’t say. “But this boy, _this_ boy, he was furious that we were thinking of giving up, and he ended up ripping a metal drainpipe right off the wall.”

Ash remembers it like he’s still there. He can remember the look in that boy’s eyes, the way he refused to let himself die without trying. That boy had whipped his head around, stared both him and Skip straight in the eye, and declared with a passion Ash hadn’t heard before, _“I’ll be back for you.”_

“He used that pipe to fly right over the wall. Twisted his body to make the jump and disappeared into the clouds. They almost looked like wings.”

Jaden’s eyes widen. She looks _enchanted._ “What happened to ‘im?”

“Dunno. I never saw him again. But help did come, so I think he kept his word in helping us.”

“Was _he_ an angel?”

Ash laughs and wraps both of his arms around her. “Not sure. He did fit the bill, though. So, I know Skip at least saw someone fly once.”

It was the last time Ash heard elation in Skipper’s voice. _“He flew, Ash! Didja see? Didja see? He can fly! He actually flew!”_

_Like a bird, Skipper._

* * *

It’s just a few minutes after midday when his phone rings, towel slung around his neck as he rummages through his cupboards and turns a few boxes around, grimacing at the dates and tosses it in the trash. Eiji unplugs his phone from the charger and looks at the ID.

“Hey, Rik.” He pulls a granola bar out of the cupboard and bites into it. “What’s up?”

 _“Are you eating whilst talking to me? Eiji, that is disgusting. Finish eating and then speak.”_ The sigh in her voice comes through as a static gale. “ _Do you not remember? You were the one who messaged me to call you?”_

“Oh.” That jolts his memory and swallows his mouthful. “Yeah, I wanted to ask you something.”

 _“You were not able to tell me in your message?”_ She pauses. _“Is everything alright?”_

“Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine,” Eiji reassures as he leans against the counter, glancing out his apartment window. The sparrows have taken up their usual perch. “You’re good with kids, right?”

 _“I_ like _children,_ ” Kaori corrects; he can hear her opening cupboards at home and cracking open a can. _“I volunteer with them for a reason, Eiji—oh, Buddy, my Buddy! Come here, my darling.”_ Eiji can hear Kaori shift so that she can hold her phone up by her shoulder—Buddy’s feet tapping excitedly against the tile flooring of her kitchen at her calling his name.

Kaori huffs triumphantly as Buddy scarfs down his food. He always did have an appetite. Fuck, he misses that dog. _“Why, do you need some advice? Are your neighbor’s children bothering you again?”_

“No, no. They moved.”

_“Good riddance?”_

“You could say that.” Eiji tosses the granola bar into an empty bowl and perches on the counter instead. “I’ve got a friend who’s a single father—”

“ _Please tell me you are not asking me for advice on how to bond with a man’s child so you can get into his pants.”_

“Rik!” Eiji’s cheeks flame, scoffing. “That—that is not—”

_“I am joking, Eiji. Continue.”_

_Brat._

“I hate you sometimes. But—back to it. I think he might be struggling?”

_“What makes you say that?”_

Eiji sighs, massaging his temples. “I’m not a father, so it is hard for me to judge on someone’s parenting.” _Kagura_ notwithstanding. “I began getting friendlier with the two a while ago. He works a job at a nearby diner, always seems exhausted when picking her up from school. It doesn’t seem like he’s used to looking after a child full-time.”

_“A deadbeat who gained full custody?”_

Eiji scowls. “He’s perfectly loving towards her.”

_“Okay, so if he is loving to her and works for her sake, what’s the issue?”_

Eiji flexes his bad foot. “I think he needs help. Or just—someone to lean on. Plus, something his kid said concerned me. She said, _I only just got him back. I don’t want the monsters to take him too._ ”

Kaori is quiet. _“Oh. There is no mother? Or another parent?”_

“No mother. Ash said that she passed away, I think. It was recently too.”

Kaori is silent on the other end, save for her tapping something. It’s a habit they both share—he taps his left knee, she taps her right knee, or the nearest wooden surface. A tradition of rumination.

_“Well, what are you doing so far?”_

“Sometimes I pick them both up from work and school—or I pick his kid up and meet him at work if he’s working overtime. Uh…” Eiji leans his elbow on his knee. “I go over theirs and cook them dinner, sometimes? His kid likes my photography. Generally, we just hang out.”

_“Eiji, this man, he is not taking advantage of you, is he?”_

“No!” Eiji huffs. “Fuck, Rik, he brings me a coffee at work all the time, _and_ I’ve had to slip money into his kid’s swear jar when he insists on paying me for the groceries I bring when I cook!”

_“Hm.”_

And, see, the infuriating thing about Okumura Kaori—she’s a brat of the highest order, but she’s _good_ at figuring people out. It only takes a few details and she can give pretty good general advice, especially if it pertains to children.

Whilst Eiji may never have kids of his own, that girl is going to make the _best_ mom one day.

Humming to herself, Kaori eventually returns with an answer. _“So, this is what you have told me. The guy is exhausted from work and is leaning on you for a bit of help. The kid cried because she has become scared that her only remaining parent may be taken away, and the ‘only just got him back’ implies at least a bit of absence. If her mother recently passed, this fear will be especially prevalent. How old is the girl?”_

“She’s almost seven.”

 _“Right, okay. That is around the age I guessed her to be.”_ Kaori sounds like she’s pulling out a chair to sit down and sighs to herself. “ _It sounds like your friend and his daughter haven’t had much time to bond outside the usual routine. It might be good to take them away from the city for a day out, have that time to get to know each other. Do they have any hobbies?”_

Eiji takes a moment to ponder. “They like to read.”

_“Nerds. Anything else?”_

Eiji thinks hard on that. “I think Jaden was looking at some roller-skates the last time I walked through the mall with her and Ash.”

 _“There you go, then!”_ Kaori claps and laughs, and he can hear Buddy happily trotting up next to her.

Eiji listens to the way Kaori fusses over Buddy for a moment before speaking again. _“You do photography in odd places, Eiji. Next time you’re due for a trip somewhere, just ask them if they would like to come along—you are good at making up excuses to get people to bond. Just be sure that there is a children’s skate park nearby, and that will give them some quality time to spend with one another that doesn’t remind them of routine existence.”_

Outside, he can see the overcast clouds begin to clear. He wonders if Kaori can see it as well, from where she is.

“…Yeah, maybe that’ll work. Thanks Rik.”

* * *

“Not letting me pay, huh.”

“No. Now, drink up, you spoiled American.” Eiji slides him a mug of coffee—a vanilla and caramel latte, he always _did_ have a bit of a sweet tooth—before sitting down. Ash’s nose wrinkles at the scent of Eiji’s caramel cortado—fuck, who even _drinks_ shit that bitter _casually?_

Eiji is _weird._

Eiji’s on his break right now—he’d called Ash just as Ash finished his earlier shift. Ash had been planning to go to the library to look up the news in New York, piece together what he could about Copper’s death, but then Eiji had invited him out for coffee and—well, it’s weird but nice. Just to do something normal for once.

Ash can almost pretend he’s normal.

Eiji’s fixing something on his camera as Ash takes a sip—fuck, the coffee here isn’t half bad—and resists the urge to claw out his own skin. He’s… mostly gotten over the sight of cameras, there was some journalist who came by years ago before Skip died that helped him adjust to it. The name eludes him, and it was just the one-off encounter, anyway.

It’s not important.

(Secretly, it is. Oh, Ash _wishes_ he could fucking remember that guy’s name.)

Eiji seems to spy his interest. “You can hold it if you want?”

Without answering back, Ash slowly takes the camera into his hands. It burns a little, in his hands as the shadows in his brain threaten to cover up the light, but Eiji’s there and smiling at him and…

It feels okay. For some reason, it’s feeling okay.

“What camera model is this?” Ash asks, not quite able to turn the lens around to look at him in the eye.

“A Nikon D5 DSLR.” Eiji overlaps his fingers and rests his chin on them, like a curious mother watching her kid for the first time. Eiji’s smile reaches his ears, and Ash feels his own heat up. “Ibe-san bought it for me after coming to America for the first time and had bought me the new lens when I got out of the hospital. Is it not a beautiful camera?”

“Not sure about that, but that _is_ a good camera to use.” Ash turns the camera over and inspects the battery compartment, sees that there’s already a memory card put in. He files _out of the hospital_ questions for later. “Do you take photographs a lot outside of work?”

“I do now, yes.”

Ash lifts his eyes away from the camera and looks at Eiji. “What do you get out of it?”

“Well…” Eiji hums and crosses his legs on the chair, tapping his fingers against his knee. “I suppose I like to capture moments that will never be alive again. One day I hope I can edit a photograph so that it looks exactly how my eyes see the world.”

“That’s—” _Beautiful._ “Kind of weird.”

Wrong words: Eiji deflates a little, puts his arm on the table, and doesn’t look at Ash. “I suppose it is.”

Scrambling to rectify the conversation, Ash stammers, “not—that it’s bad. Just, I’m not a photographer. It’s just weird to me because I don’t—get it. I like your pictures, though. The ones in the diner and—the ones you showed Jaden. They kinda remind me of home.”

Shit.

Can someone just cut out his fucking tongue, he’s not used to pretending to be normal except if it’s to lull a sick bastard into a lay, _stupid piece of—_

“Oh.”

_Oh?_

Ash snaps his head up, and Eiji is _blushing._ Pink on the cheeks, actually fucking blushing. What the hell? In what universe does someone blush over a fuckup like him being _earnest?_

“Thank you.”

Ash feels his own cheeks heat and downs his latte like a shot. “…Yeah, uh. Whatever. Don’t get weird on me, Eiji.”

Ash tries to ignore Eiji’s smile in the reflection of the window as much as he feels the one creeping up on his face.

(Doesn’t fucking work.

…Thankfully.)

It’s later on when Eiji’s finally finished work, that Ash and Jaden meet him outside of _Mayfly Photography Studios._ Eiji apparently had grocery shopping to do; Jaden had insisted that they join him for once.

The thing is? Jaden’s a real stubborn brat for a kid. Maybe more so then Ash ever was. Surprisingly not as much as Copper was.

“Jaden, we aren’t getting that.”

“Why not?!”

“Because you don’t _like_ unsweetened juice, remember?”

With a resounding huff, Jaden stomps her foot and folds her arms. “I do _too!_ I love it. I want the cranberry juice! Gimme! _Pops,_ you promised I could choose _whatever I wanted._ ”

Ash tries to ignore the shit-eating grin that Eiji is trying to hide behind his hand, folding his arms in a cheap imitation of his daughter. She’s got his scowl, right down to the curled lip. “You get _one_ juice choice this week. I don’t want you pouting that you hate it.”

“I don’t!”

Ash raises a wordless brow.

“Pops, I _like_ it! I promise. Promise.”

A lifetime ago, he remembers doing this with Griff—Ash kneels down to her height and holds out his pinkie finger, imploring her to do the same. “You gotta swear, kiddo. Can’t break it.”

“ _Promise.”_ Like she’s facing the wrath of hell itself, Jaden braves the fire and hooks her pudgy little finger around his before her eyes _light_ up. “Eiji taught me how to do this, like in Japanese! Can I say it that way?”

Ash looks back at Eiji with surprise—and Eiji’s golden-brown skin has taken on an almost dusky rose hue. “You did?” Ash asks.

Eiji nods, sheepishly. “She… uh, she was asking me about my younger sister, games we used to play. It cropped up.”

Ash hums, before nodding back at Jaden. “Sure. But it still counts. Promises are international.”

Jaden takes a breath before singing.

_“Yubi kiri genman  
uso tsuitara,  
hari sen bon nomasu,  
yubi kitta!”_

On the _kitta!_ Jaden breaks their pinkie fingers, clasping her hands together and looking at Eiji for approval. When he gives her a thumbs up, she pumps her fists. “I _knew_ I got it right! Been practisin’.”

“It shows, Jaden.” Eiji pats the top of her head. Ash smiles a little too fondly.

With that ego-boost, Jaden grasps the carton of cranberry juice in both hands and loads it into the cart, standing on her tiptoes—and she gasps and points. “Pops! Can I get a magazine?”

“You mean the ones with the plastic princess rings? The ones I keep standing on in the middle of the night because you leave them on the floor?”

Jaden puts her hands on her hips, and proudly declares, “ _yes!”_

Ash massages his temples. _Fuck_ those puppy-dog eyes. “ _One._ ”

Jaden doesn’t stray far from his sight, leaning against the shopping cart as she peruses the magazines on the wrack nearby; her eyes practically sparkle from the cheap plastic jewelry on offer. She’s still got those hair slides Eiji gave her in her hair; he’s styled her hair in this cute, tiny ponytail this time.

(Ash spent _hours_ researching it and sheepishly texted Eiji to help him again. He knows he’s relying too much on him lately, but fuck it, styling hair is _hard._ )

“You’re teaching her Japanese?”

Ash’s sudden words make Eiji startle in his spot; a few of the groceries in his own basket jolt upward as a result. “Uh—well, I was on the phone with my sister and she asked what language I was speaking in. She asks from time-to-time. Is that alright?”

Ash chuckles, shaking his head. Honestly, this guy can go from as brazenly shameless as a hawk to as skittish as a rabbit. “Nah, ‘course it’s fine. Jaden’s smart. Just means I can pick up more books for her later.”

“You _do_ like your reading.”

Ash’s smile quirks more. “What gave it away, Sherlock?”

The conversation tapers off as the two drift their focus back toward Jaden. She’s sat on the carpeted floor now, flipping through some of the magazines in the corner. Ash knows he should make moves to stop her, but she’s not _hurting_ anyone, not bothering any of the employees, and…

He sighs, crossing his arms on the cart handle. “I think she’s taken up some of my habits.”

Eiji’s busy reading some of the words on the back of a packet of instant ramen as he looks up. “How so?”

Being honest about this shit is _not_ Ash’s forte, but there’s something about Eiji’s aura that makes it easier. Like his kindness (even in spite of the weird, bratty tendencies—seriously, so _what_ if he doesn’t like natto, Eiji?) just suffuses through his entire being.

“She’s—still a bit awkward around me, I think. Nervous to ask for stuff past what I already knew about it.” Ash keeps his eyes trained on Jaden. “I think she’s scared to ask me for things.”

“I think you give yourself too little credit,” Ash’s eyelashes flutter in surprise as Eiji begins speaking. “Jaden always seems very relaxed around you. Maybe it’s _you_ who feels awkward around her?”

Ash rubs the back of his neck—Eiji seems to take his silence as good enough for an answer.

It’s—scary, honestly. How easily Eiji can read him. They haven’t known each other very long, but something about Eiji just makes it…

Easier.

“You said she’d been spying those roller skates the last time you took her through the mall?”

Eiji nods. “Specifically, the pink ones with the widgets you could stick into them.”

“Of course, that’s just like her…”

Ash puts his hand down to rest back on the cart and looks back over at Jaden—she seems to have found a magazine she likes, reading it rather intently. A closer look has Ash beaming—it’s a science magazine _well_ beyond her years, but she seems to like the pictures of galaxies.

“So,” Ash starts, a little awkwardly. “You busy later?”

“Huh?”

Ash taps on the shopping carts handle and averts his gaze as Jaden bounces with unbridled glee back over with her magazine in hand, throwing it into the cart. When Jaden thinks Ash isn’t looking, she tosses in a candy bar. “Just saying. If you aren’t, there’s enough here to feed three.”

Jaden _grins._ “C’mon, Eiji! Pops isn’t _that_ bad at makin’ food! I only threw up _once._ ”

“That’s because we found out you hate the taste of hummus, kid. Nothing to do with my cooking skills. I’m not _Shorter._ ”

“Uncle Shorter can cook!”

“Did you _see_ him cook?”

Jaden blanches, and furrows her brows—before gasping in horror and whipping her head back to look at Ash, completely missing the fact that Ash takes the candy bar back out and puts it on another shelf.

“Shorter _lied_ to me! _Nadia_ made it!”

As Jaden is processing that little horror with a wide-open jaw and dead arms, Ash puts a hand on his hip and lazily looks Eiji, who looks back at him, stunned.

“Well?” He grins. “Are you coming with us or what?” 

* * *

Eiji ends up going with them.

It’s a little ridiculous, he thinks, how much he’s slotting into this little family’s daily schedule; he runs into them by chance whenever he’s _not_ driving them to the grocery store; Ash’s work and Jaden’s school is on-route to his own job, and when _that’s_ not the backdrop to conversation…

Well, he’s here watching Ash cook them all dinner. _Attempting_ to, being the keyword, what with Jaden backseat cooking and telling Ash, _no, no,_ you need to add _more_ spices and, _honestly, Pops, this is why Mami made fun of you_.

Eiji has to hide a laugh behind his hand when Jaden grabs Ash’s ear from where she’s sat on the counter and begins stirring the pot herself; there’s no remorse when Ash _pouts_ at the two for the apparent betrayal.

“Bullied in my own fuckin’ home for nothin’,” Ash whines, practically _sulking_ in the corner as he tucks his thumbs into his jeans and keeps a watchful eye of Jaden. Eiji just puts a dollar in the swear jar so Jaden doesn’t have to; she treats him to a nod of appreciation with a crooked little grin and goes back to dinner.

Jaden seems to be on a vegetarian trend—or so Ash has told Eiji when they went for coffee the other week—so Eiji had suggested _Kitsune Udon,_ or thick wheat noodles with thinly-sliced, deep-fried tofu on top. His sister had been a huge fan of it when going through a vegetarian phase back in her early teenage years.

(It didn’t stick. Kaori loves roast duck too much.)

Now he’s sat at the table, watching as Jaden scrunches up her brow and attempts to wind the noodles around the chopsticks—and getting increasingly more irritated as they slip back into the dish.

There are another few attempts before she throws her arms up in defeat. “I can’t do it!” She exclaims, folding her arms and huffing. “Chopsticks are _dumb.”_

“They aren’t dumb, kid. Nadia and Shorter eat with ‘em all the time.”

Jaden turns her head away and curls her lips into a pout. _Like father, like daughter._ “Dumb.”

“Jaden hasn’t eaten with chopsticks for a while. Not since we—moved here,” Ash explains, which just furthers the red blush on Jaden’s cheeks; it’s _ridiculously_ cute how much she’s pretending _not_ to be watching how Eiji uses chopsticks, studying her with a lazy grin. “You can use a fork, kid.”

“ _No!_ That’s dumber.”

Eiji hides another laugh behind his hand; he stands up and kneels down next to her. There’s a pain in his ankle that begins to bubble underneath his skin, but Eiji ignores it in favour of pointing to Jaden’s hands. Ash watches on, curious, and Eiji feigns ignorance that the tips of his ears _aren’t_ turning red.

“Here, let me show you.”

Jaden lets out a small whine. “You’re ain’t gonna make fun, right?”

“Not on my life.” Eiji slaps a dramatic hand to his chest and puffs it out. “I’m from the _land_ of chopsticks. It’s only right that I teach you properly.”

Jaden scrunches up her nose. “Gizmo?”

“No—I am from Izumo. Japan. _Gizmo_ is what your Dad calls it.” Eiji snorts, slyly grinning at Ash as said blond turns away with a huff and a pout. “Here, give me your hands. I’ll show you.”

When Eiji was younger, he struggled with using chopsticks as well. His mother would sit with him for ages, Eiji on her knee, and show him over and over, with the patience only a mother could provide; the day Eiji finally took chopsticks and ate by himself had made Okumura Kagura _beam._

It sours Eiji a little, that she had the patience to teach him to eat, but not to help him discover who he was.

Jaden, it seems, picks things up far faster than Eiji ever did at her age. He guides her hands to hold the chopsticks, demonstrates with her shadowing him, and once she gets it on her own (albeit shakily), she looks up at both Ash and Eiji, glancing nonchalantly between them.

“Told ‘ya I could do it.”

Ash has a strange smile on his face as he leans to rest his chin on his hand. “Never had any doubt.”

Jaden, true to a child’s insatiable appetite, finishes eating her bowl in one-fell swoop; declares she’s finished and wants to go and play with her little stuffed rabbit. The girl shoves her chopsticks _into the bowl_ and departs from the kitchen after swiping the last orange in the fruit bowl. Eiji has to resist every cultural urge to correct it.

“Thanks,” Ash says, drawing Eiji’s attention back. “You didn’t have to show her that.”

“You would have, if I didn’t.”

Ash shrugs, popping another piece of tofu into his mouth. “Yeah. But you did. So, thanks.” He seems to notice Eiji staring at him, and glances down, then back up to meet his gaze. “What?”

“Nothing, you just use chopsticks well. You could almost live in Japan.”

“Me? In Japan? That’s pretty funny.” He passes Eiji a few of the fried vegetables they set out as a side dish, sounding like the very idea is ridiculous. “Don’t think I’d have much to do in Japan.”

Eiji lets out a laugh. “You and me both, I suppose.”

“You got any family? Surely you go back and visit them from time-to-time.”

Eiji stills. “I… my mother, she lives back in Izumo. My sister and I were planning on visiting her—well, maybe.” Eiji waves a hand. “It’s complicated.”

“Right, you’ve mentioned you have a sister.” He rakes his gaze over Eiji and pops another piece of tofu into his mouth. “Bet she’s cute.”

“Cute—” Eiji practically _gags,_ twirling his chopstick around his fingers. Ash laughs as Eiji complains that, “she’s a _brat._ You’d think she just finished high school with how demanding she can be—she’s twenty-one!”

“You’re always mentioning her, though.”

The steam from the food wafts up, curling around Jaden’s empty bowl. Outside, the city begins its descent into a blue-hued evening; there are no storm clouds thundering over the horizon, and for now, Detroit can fool itself into a lull.

“Yeah, I suppose I am.”

The lull reaches the little bubble inside the apartment, and Eiji is about to take another bite of his food when he concludes the conversation has tapered off, when—

“I… had a brother, too. He was older than me, though. Fifteen years.” Ash isn’t looking at Eiji as he speaks; his vision’s in another world, reflected in the oaken wood from the table. “Griff died a few years ago. Jaden was only a baby.”

 _You must’ve been young when you and this Copper had Jaden._ Eiji narrows his eyes. _What did your brother think, you having a child so young?_

“What was he like?”

“Emotional as shit. Wore his heart on his sleeve.” Ash puts the chopsticks down, flat over the bowl, and crosses his arms as he leans forward.

Ash pulls out a picture to show Eiji—Ash is younger, there, and there’s a teenage boy with his hands on his shoulders, with sandy-brown hair and chestnut eyes. There’s a longing in his Ash’s eyes as he looks at it.

A yearning for a simpler time.

“Griff could see a fig tree half-dead and somehow convince a Republican it had a fucking soul worth protecting. That’s just the way he was.”

“He… Griff, he sounds like a good brother.”

“The best,” Ash murmurs, pocketing the picture again. “And what about you? Your little sister?”

“Mm?”

“What’s she like?”

Eiji pauses, before fishing out his phone and showing him a photograph in one of his many, many picture galleries. It’s an older one now, from about two years ago—he’s got his brand-new camera, Kaori is up on his father’s shoulders holding a trophy with a car in the background, smoking from the wheels. Kaori is wearing those stupid star-shaped hair slides in that now adorn Jaden’s hair; he can hear Jaden excitedly playing some pirate game with her stuffed toys from her bedroom.

“Kaori’s a stubborn brat,” Eiji says and meets Ash’s gaze with a smile. “And I wouldn’t have her any other way.”

“Does she know that?”

Eiji’s grin quirks, going crooked. “ _Nope_. She’ll refuse to change out of pure spite.”

“Sounds like someone else I know.”

Eiji scrunches up his nose as he grins. “I do not know what you’re talking about.”

Ash’s gaze softens towards him as he smiles again; Eiji catches it, feels it wrap around him like a cool embrace. Eiji’s always ran hotter than most; Ash, it seems, runs cooler with his paler skin, thermodynamic equilibrium in synergized existence.

Eiji looks down at his lap with a small, pleased smile, trying to ignore the heat coming to his cheeks.

Detroit is said to be a city spread out, stretched thin on a blank canvas. There are no Gods that walk this concrete suburbia; Eiji has been here for years, and he knows that interspersed in the Downtown cosmopolitan, are tight-knit communities and bubbles of communal history that almost replicate the lilac cobblestones of Izumo.

In this little apartment, he’s finally realising what they’re talking about. The evening rolls on, the world spun by an active little toddler with a finger on a globe; and soon night reaches them.

Ash and Eiji talk about things censored by that fragile sense of opening-up; he doesn’t dive into the past about his ankle, just that it’s sore; Ash scarcely mentions New York, but reveals more than he says on that he misses it as if it were a parent to him.

It’s when the stars start winking at him and he washes his face in Ash’s tiny bathroom that Eiji considers going home; he comes out drying his hands on a towel and sees Ash hunched over on the couch’s arm, curled up.

Like this, Ash almost looks his age, like this. Less of the tired, world-weary vulnerability of a man he met months ago, and more like an exhausted college student.

It’s… kind of cute.

Jaden’s pulling a red and blue throw blanket over her father’s sleeping form when Eiji comes out, and she puts a finger to her lips. “He’s sleepin’, Eiji.”

Eiji chuckles. “I’m well aware.” He crouches down to her level—Jaden’s obviously just woken up, too. Eiji puts a hand on her head, ruffling up her curly brown hair. “Come on. Open the door for me. I’ll carry him in.”

“Okay!”

Jaden practically skips to Ash’s bedroom to fling the door open as Eiji scoops Ash into his arms—tests out his ankle first, and it _seems_ okay (he needs to be careful with it, but Ash needs carrying, so obviously _that_ takes precedent)—so with one arm underneath his knees and the other behind his back, Ash’s head lolls against his chest.

Something in Eiji’s heart lurches as Ash mumbles, twisting a hand into his shirt. That’s something to be tucked away and analysed for later.

He sets Ash down soon enough—the burning his ankle notwithstanding—and laughs as the man practically _sinks_ into bed. Jaden’s already clambering in next to him, and there’s a small collection of kid’s books on Ash’s bedside table.

“He reads t’me before bed, sometimes,” Jaden explains behind a yawn, and that makes Eiji’s poor heart stutter _more._ “Are y’goin’ now, Eiji?”

“Mm, I should. I have work tomorrow.”

It’s like years ago before he left for America—when Kaori would confide in him about their mother’s affair with her schoolteacher whilst their father lay sick in the hospital. He would take his baby sister four years his junior into her room and tuck her in, even as a teenager, and stroke her hair until she fell asleep. Kaori found way too much comfort in him, in those days. It hurt her when he left for America.

She never stopped trusting him, though.

Hesitantly, he places a hand on top of Jaden’s forehead and _melts_ when she sinks into it.

“Eiji…?”

“Mm?”

“Thanksfa… showin’ me… chopsticks.”

 _Fuck,_ his heart cannot take this child. She’s too sweet. Jaden’s blinking at Eiji with one toe dipped into her dreamland, and yet she’s clutching onto Ash’s arm like the world’s going to tear them apart like it’s a sobering reality she’s had to face.

Eiji lingers, just until Jaden’s eyes have closed, until Ash’s arms are around her, until Eiji’s draped the blanket over them.

But he doesn’t stay long. Instead, Eiji leaves the extra groceries in the fridge, locks the door behind him, and can’t help but feel like a small piece of heart still beats inside that bedroom, lulling those two to an easy slumber.

_Thumpthump, thumpthump, thumpthump._

* * *

It starts when Ash is called to the school halfway through his shift at the diner. Wendy, despite her heart, actually drops him off to go and pick Jaden up—a day’s suspension for getting into a fight. He meets with the teachers briefly, but there’s little indicator of how this fight started and Jaden’s unusually tight-lipped about it.

So, now they’re sat on a wall in the local park, Jaden’s nibbling on the rest of her lunch that she didn’t get to have, and he’s going through her homework—when he frowns.

“Wait, why’d they mark this wrong? We went through the American founders.”

Jaden shrugs, popping another grape into her mouth. “Wrote in cursive. Didn’t like it.”

“Wh—” Ash looks again. Jaden’s always had loopy handwriting, pretty cute for her age. “They marked kids down because they wrote in cursive?”

Again, she shrugs. “Not kids. Just me.”

Ash narrows his eyes. “What do you _mean,_ just you?”

That was the wrong question—Jaden just clams up and hugs her little rabbit. The few times he did visit Jaden after Copper cut him out, he remembers the fridge being filled with papers of her progress in school. Jaden _loves_ learning.

Now…

She’s wilting.

“Alright, I’ll drop it for now. But if they do something like this again, you tell me, alright?”

Jaden stiffly nods.

(And like any good father, he doesn’t believe her.)

* * *

“Pops, why can’t I just try _now!_ I’ve watched people doin’ this online, I can _totally_ do it now!”

“Because you’ve gotta learn to _balance_ before you move, unless you want a broken nose by face-plantin’.”

“I _won’t_ face-plant!”

“Will so.”

“ _Pops!”_

“Alright then. Walk from here to the other side without stumbling, and I’ll let you go onto the ramps.”

“Fine!”

The sight is cute enough. Jaden’s wrapped up in protective skate gear, with a particularly odd design of owls with bunny ears dotted all over helmet—Ash said Jaden, when given the choice, has a rather eclectic fashion sense, and with her red and purple-spotted leggings, bright orange hoodie, and sleeveless denim vest, he wasn’t’ _wrong—_ but she’s pouting as she steadies herself on the grass.

Eiji’s sat on one of the nearby picnic benches, weaker ankle crossed over his knee as he readies his camera to catch some long-distance shots, and has to hide a laugh when Jaden takes three steps before toppling over—Ash just about catches her by the hands.

“I didn’t fall!”

“I said if you could walk without _stumbling._ ”

“I didn’t!” Jaden huffs. “I just—my feet forgot to work for a minute. ‘s all.”

“That’s called stumbling, kid. Again.” Ash just wags his finger at her. Jaden groans, stomps back to the grass whilst holding his hand, and carries on practicing her walking. Apparently she’d _begged_ Ash for those inline skates, and he’s making her see the cost of pursuit.

Ash flashes a grin at Eiji as if to say, _kids, right?_ Eiji just responds by waving a hand at him, working on his shoot separately.

Taking Kaori’s advice seems to have worked—Eiji brought Ash and Jaden out here, and now he can’t help but sneak a glance at the two every time his eye lifts from the camera, from Jaden’s slow improvement in balancing to Ash adjusting her form and encouraging her to go a little further each time.

Eiji’s around 50 snaps into capturing the autumn air of a gorgeous sugar maple when he’s adjusting the lens. He’s never sure if he likes close-ups or wide-angle shots more, and if he were more athletic he’d love to clamber up the trunk and get some more experimental angles—

“Eiji! Eiji, hey!”

Eiji hears his name being called, and instantly his heart wants to burst at the sight of Jaden, gap-toothed and beaming, holding Ash’s hands. He’s walking backward as she skates, a baby deer in formation, one foot shakily gliding in front of the other, and he can hear the wheels stomp against the pavement.

“Can ‘ya see! I’m doin’ it!”

“I can!” Eiji calls back, giving Jaden and Ash a wave.

She breaks away from one of Ash’s hands to point at his camera. “Can ‘ya take a snap’o’me? Please? I wanna remember!”

Eiji looks at Ash who… stares at the camera for a beat longer than one would for normal consideration. When he nods, Eiji does too. “Sure thing! I’ve been looking for a new model.” That makes Jaden giggle and _blush._ Oh, be still his fucking heart. “I’ll send your Dad them later on today.”

Now, Jaden’s a smart kid. A real smart kid, it’s scary,

That doesn’t necessarily translate to becoming a master at inline skating on the first try, and she’s seven band-aids into her first venture already by the time Eiji needs to replace the batteries in his camera.

Eiji can’t stop smiling as he snaps her first successful solo glide along the pavement, as well as the thumbs up she gives him and Ash when she topples straight into a hedge; he also sees Ash as a motion blur as he practically _races_ to check if she’s alright, and her steadfast determination to try again.

“Pops!” Jaden huffs with a pout, indignant and flustered as Ash checks her arm. “Stop motherin’ me!”

“You sure—”

“You’re so _dumb!”_

Yeah, she’s fine.

Ash comes over as Jaden insists on going slow, holding onto a railing like she’s at an ice rink, as Eiji browses through some of the pictures his took. Ash a little windswept in a way that leaves Eiji ridiculously starry-eyed. He rakes a hand through his hair and peers over Eiji’s shoulder, resting his chin on there.

“Get any good shots of her?”

Eiji holds up the camera, showing the tiny screen. “With a bit of editing, they’ll be even better.”

Ash pauses. “Editing?”

“Yeah. Like adjusting the lighting, getting rid of any smears, that sort of thing.”

“Right. Yeah, that’s—fine. Okay.”

“Unless…” Eiji tilts his head. “Unless you’d rather just have the raw files? That’s okay, too. I’m just used to editing pictures for my job. I don’t need to edit them.”

Ash’s gaze is fixated on one of the photographs—the one where Jaden stuck her thumb up from the bush and shakes his head, pressing his mouth into Eiji’s shoulder and slowly, he returns his gaze to Jaden.

“Nah, that’s alright,” Ash mumbles with a smile, and Eiji can feel the smile against his skin. “I’ll trust you.”

That feels heavier than just _pictures._ It warms Eiji to his toes.

Ash keeps his head on Eiji’s shoulder for another ten minutes, only fidgeting when he gets too warm. Between looking at Jaden and inquiring about what types of edits Eiji would do to what picture (he gets _adorable_ huffy when Eiji goes “nyoom!” at the picture of his motion blur), Jaden’s waving Eiji and Ash over and pointing to the ramps.

“Can I go on this now, Pops? I’m good enough, right?”

Ash looks at Eiji the _moment_ those little green eyes strike him, _helpless._ Both know she’s not ready for it, but there’s a worse fate than hell if they _deny_ her.

There’s a particularly _mean_ laugh that comes from behind them. “Why’s a little brat like her wanting to go on the ramps? She sucks.”

Eiji looks over his shoulder, and Ash is already looking fed up. “Oi, what you say?”

There’s a cluster of boys—maybe twelve? Thirteen years old at most—who snicker at the sight of Jaden’s safety gear and attempts to learn a new sport. One of them looks hesitant, but the ringleader pokes his head out and sneers. “We said she _sucks._ Can you move along?”

Ash just shares a bored look with Jaden, who wilts behind him. “She’s not that bad. I was the same when I started learning to skate and board.”

Now _that_ gets Eiji’s attention. He blinks, eyes widening.

It seems to capture the boys’ too, as the same one bark out a laugh. “You? You’re so _old._ You’d probably break a bone if you tried!”

There’s a particularly boyish grin that lights up Ash’s face as he’s challenged—Jaden notices and reaches for Eiji’s arm, taking careful steps as Ash shrugs his jacket off and hands it to Eiji. “Is that a certainty, kid?” He says, scraping his hair into a bun. “You willing to bet on it?”

The vitriol in these kids’ faces makes way for genuine curiousity. “What’re you betting?”

Ash looks around, then points behind him. “If I fuck up, I’ll buy you all hotdogs. I win, then you leave my kid be.”

The prospect seems to light their faces up, and one kid kicks his board toward Ash. “Go on then, old man! We like ours with extra mustard.”

Eiji sticks his tongue out at that, but he stops when Ash meets his gaze and shoots him an attractive smile.

“Get my good side, alright?”

Ash kicks up the board with one foot and hooks it underneath his arm, and underneath the fall sun, he spots his target. There’s a side ramp with a bar for grinds in jumping distance, and he puts his thumb up to judge the distance.

“Eiji, does Pops really know how to board?”

Eiji can’t take his eyes off of Ash, as Jaden twists her hands into the fabric of his shirt. “I guess we’re about to find out.

It’s not the tricks themselves that does it for Eiji.

Ash drops the board carefully, puts his foot to the ground, and pushes it to gain the momentum he needs—he bends his knees and leans to pivot around the side-ramp, then his grin just increases as he shoots Jaden a two-fingered salute on the descent.

With the extra speed, he bends his knees and suddenly jumps up onto the rail, managing a grind and flipping the board as he comes off, bringing the skate to a slow stop. He kicks the board back up, tucks his free thumb into his pocket, and winks.

“That good enough?”

The clicks of his camera fade out as Jaden cries out, “Pops, that was _awesome!”_

She lets go of Eiji and tries her best to skate on over, almost falling over until Ash catches her.

“You were watching me, huh?”

Jaden just grins. “Now you gotta teach _me!”_

One of the boys forgets the earlier teasing and goes for full praise. “Whoah, that was so _cool!_ Did you see it?”

“Duh, dude, we all saw it! Hey, can you show me how you did that grind on the bar? I keep falling off—”

The conversation trails off. From the eye of his camera, Ash is contained in a tiny circle. Ash lifts Jaden onto his shoulders, buys those kids hot dogs anyway, and throws back his head and laughs _loudly._ There’s a sudden blustery gale that swirls those sugar maple leaves around the park; carrying gravel and stones skidding across the pavement and lodged in the soil. The fall sun shines on Ash’s hair, on Jaden’s eyes, and…

And it creates an echo chamber in time, nothing else can penetrate this moment, and—

Oh.

_Oh._

Eiji puts down his camera to look Ash in all hi swindrushed boyrish glory, and feels his heart thunder against his chest.

* * *

The very sight of them burns holes into the back of his head, sweat pouring down his brow. They’re staring at him, ugly orange fucking demons that they are, plastered all over the diner’s windows.

Maybe he’s lucky to be stuck in the kitchen with the grease and fries instead, but he swears Del has it out for him in the way she’s overcompensated for decorating the diner with _pumpkins_ on the counter, on the windows, on the fucking _advertisements._

Exposure therapy doesn’t work because he can just _hear_ the guts being scraped out of those damn gourds. So, _what_ if they’re made of paper? It’s the _principle_ of the matter, dammit.

Ash is sweeping outback during the downtime to avoid their very _existence_ when Wendy comes back, cigarette neatly tucked between two fingers, and takes one look at him.

“Wow,” Wendy snorts, smoke whistling out her nose like an old steam train. “Who pissed in your coffee today, Ashton?”

“The last guy who was tricked into showing up on a blind date with you,” Ash snaps back at her, letting the broom clatter to the floor in the closet before slamming the door a little too hard behind him. Dust clouds around his feet as he stomps off in the other direction, ignoring Wendy’s little offended sputter; he’s got no time for her now.

No, instead it’s back to the usual grease and burgers that make his skin feel disgusting; sleeves rolled up to the elbows, hair tied back with a million bobby pins, and he’s about to take his usual station again—

When Delphine pokes her head into the kitchen and snaps her fingers to get his attention. Ash turns down the heat as she asks him cordially, “Ash, would you mind taking the next few orders to the tables instead of cooking? Mark is having a bit of an anxiety flare-up. Needs a moment to calm down before he goes back out there.”

Ash’s eye twitches. “ _Sure._ ”

It’s fucking _lucky_ to some of the customers that Ash keeps his pistol pretty-well concealed underneath his apron because the next few minutes test his patience to the absolute extreme. As much as Del has said he could deck any person who treats him funny, he’s indebted to her not to fuck this up.

Asking him if he’s single? That’s fine, he can gel with that. An appreciative glance? Harmless, compared to walking the streets and almost getting raped. Even a whistle is nothing more than a shudder up his spine. No different than surviving New York’s suburbs at night.

 _The groping?_ Ash’s dark-circled eye is twitching. He almost wishes he were back with Shorter and Nadia at the Chang Dai.

Thirty minutes later, and he’s working the cash register, ready to blow a casket.

“Here’s your change, sir. Have a pleasant day,” Ash seethes through his teeth, and hopes the glower translates to _keep that money for your ferry ride down the river Styx, you perverted bastard._

The bell on the diner door jingles and Ash takes a moment—lays his head down and _groans._

“Sorry about all that, Ashton.” Ash lifts his head a little, peeks with one eye as Del comes out of the office. She looks as stressed as he feels, furrowed brows making lines on her forehead. “I know you’re not a fan of direct interaction with the customers. Mark’s fine now if you wanna head to the back again.”

Del’s a good sport. Always looking out for the kids who work with her. Ash never knew his own mother, apparently, she died when he was a baby, but—maybe, _maybe_ she would have been as inviting and caring as Del is. Maybe she could have given a shit about him if she knew he had a kid, at least.

Ash whistles a sigh through his teeth. “…’preciate it, Del.”

Del folds her arms and smiles at him, patting his shoulder. He only curls in on himself a bit. “No problem. I—” Her attention is brought back to the door as the bell goes, and something in her expression softens. “Hey, would you just be able to serve one more customer a black coffee? It’s on the house for him. Then you can go straight to your break.”

 _Lovely._ Still, the idea of being able to sink his teeth into his lunch is enticing enough to make him pivot on his feet and square up.

One coffee. He can do that. “Sure.”

Del pats him on the shoulder and walks off, greeting the customer with a delighted, “what a surprise! I haven’t seen you here for quite some time. And may I ask who _this_ lovely young lady is?”

There’s a familiar laugh, accompanied by a childish little giggle, that jolts Ash upwards. “She’s my friend’s daughter. Jaden, this is Delphine.”

“Hi!”

“Jaden, what a lovely name. It’s nice to meet you.” Del’s voice does little to help how Ash’s back goes ramrod straight, turning his head and feeling his eyes _bug._

True to life, Eiji has tucked himself into one of the booths, and Jaden’s kicking her feet back and forth with piles of her schoolbooks sitting opposite him. He notices she’s got some brand-new star-shaped hairclips in.

“What brings you both here today?” Del places two menus down in front of them; where Jaden’s eyes are trained, he _knows_ she’s looking at the milkshakes. Ash pours the coffee with his gaze fixated “I haven’t seen you for a while, Eiji. Ibe said you’ve taken less shifts on at work lately?”

Eiji startles as the attention is swerved back onto him; his cheeks pepper red. “Ah, well, that’s—”

_“Pops!”_

Any hope of ducking out back is quashed when Jaden’s pudgy brown hands wave him down; Ash slides Eiji’s mug of fresh black coffee over to him and averts his soft gaze back toward Jaden, pointedly _away_ from Eiji.

Delphine’s questioning expression burns into the back of his skull. “Pops?”

Ash ignores her for a moment, entirely focused on Jaden. “Came to ambush me in work, didja? You little brat.”

“Jaden wanted to surprise you,” Eiji explains, and Jaden’s got a shit-eating grin when he further explains that, “she was _quite_ insistent on it.”

Ash folds his arms as if to scold her, which makes Jaden pause, but then can’t resist reaching forward to mess up Jaden’s hair.

“Pops, cut it out!” Jaden flails, attempting to bat his hands away in protest. “Eiji just did my hair all neat!”

Ash even lets a good-natured chuckle escape him. “Yeah, I can tell.” Eiji lifts his head and tilts it to inquire, but Ash beats him to the punch. “You do the same style all the time.”

“Well, _Ash,_ ” Eiji simpers as he crosses his fingers, rests his chin on them. “At least _one_ of us can.”

The diner’s lax for customers, so it’s easy to feel whose eyes are prying in on this development—Del’s an obvious one, but Ash gives permission for her to be a nosey shit, so that doesn’t bother him. What _does_ is Mark failing to be stealthy by the window that leads toward the office, or Wendy’s complete disregard for subtlety with her gaping jaw.

Honestly.

Ash takes a seat next to Jaden and leans his elbow on the table. “More homework, kid?”

Jaden nods, taking out a few papers and spreading them out. “It’s the family tree project. Eiji’s gonna let me use his fancy printer to print off pictures!”

“Ibe’s letting you do that, Eiji?” Del’s voice rings with a bit of surprise. “I know that man melts if you so much as flutter your eyelashes, but when it comes to work—”

“No—no, it’s my printer at home. I, uh, well it isn’t too much of an issue and…”

Del laughs and holds up a hand. “No worries. I understand. I’m weak for those big puppy eyes kids have at times, too. Still, I wasn’t aware you two know each other, Ashton.”

Ash’s already lifted Jaden into his lap, eyeing Eiji with an undeniable burst of curiousity that tightens in his chest. “We bumped into each other one day,” he explains, vague with a purpose. “The rest is history.”

Eiji scowls like the grumpy ray of sunshine that he is, insisting to everyone, “it is more like _you_ bumped into _me,_ Ash _._ ”

“I was doing you a favour not blaming your failing eyesight, old man.”

Eiji bristles. “ _Excuse me—”_

“As much as I’d love to hear this pre-nuptial banter,” Del cuts in, leaving Eiji choking on air and Ash mildly exasperated, “I believe there’s a little lady here who came in for dinner. What would you like, sweetheart?”

Ash tries to hide a wince _hearing_ that name applied to his _daughter_ as he nudges Jaden’s side. There’s already bile rising at the back of his throat. Jaden’s more than a good enough distraction from the shadows encroaching on his good mood.

“You can choose anythin’ you want, alright? I know the cheeseburgers are supposed to be decent here.”

Del rolls her eyes. “That’s because _you_ make them, Ash.”

Jaden furrows her brows. “Can’t have ‘em.”

This draws some surprise from him—the use of the word _can’t_ rather than _won’t_ clues him in, so Ash asks her, “why not? You’re not lactose intolerant. I’ve seen you drink milk before.”

Ash is _sure_ Copper clued him up on all her medical know-how when she let him back into Jaden’s life last year. It was practically a university course with how much she sat him down and made him read, over and over until it was verbatim on muscle memory.

(Honestly, Copper never needed to do all that.

Ash would have done it anyway.)

Jaden puts the menu down and stares at him under the brim of her large glasses. “Can’t have meat ‘n dairy cooked together. Kosher rule. Mami said.”

The world comes to a screeching halt; Ash pales, eyes widening just a little.

Now, it’s not that he wasn’t _aware_ that Copper was Jewish. The amount of Yiddish she used to pepper into her conversations had him tripping up keyed him into that not two weeks into knowing her. She often laughed at him when she or Skip used a phrase he didn’t understand.

And it’s not like Ash didn’t know that Copper planned to raise Jaden Jewish, too. Copper explained that succinctly, and by all means, he was fine with it.

But—but.

_Fuck._

Dietary rules didn’t even occur to him.

No _wonder_ Copper drove him out to that fucking store two ours out and made him memorize everything. Ash can practically hear her foot stamping in the words, _“no corras, ten huevos, Aslan!”_ that she had yelled at him that day right now; she’s yelling at him from beyond.

Ash is busy digging his own mental grave when Eiji points at something on the menu. “Do you like pancakes maybe, Jaden? You could have that with maple syrup. Those are good here, too—I’ve had them before.” He gives Ash a sympathetic look. “They’re Ms. Marquez’ speciality.”

“Honestly, Eiji, it’s Delphine. But sure, you want that, sweetheart?” Jaden nods enthusiastically, legs kicking underneath the table, and that brings Ash out from the certain throes of failing fatherhood.

The nickname she lauds so sweetly on his daughter makes his stomach tighten with uncomfortably familiar nausea.

“Alright, I’ll go whip a stack up for the three of you.”

“I still need to—”

“Sit your ass _down,_ Ashton.” Bemused, Ash doesn’t move from his seat as Del wags a finger at him. “No missing dinner with your kids. Lesson number _five._ ”

“Whatever, boss.”

Del saunters off to the kitchen and—for a minute, he lets his gaze trail after her. She reminds him of Copper, a bit. The insistence on sharing meals being important. Maybe the two of them would have gotten along, once upon a fucking dream. 

Jaden’s content to scribble down in her notebook for the moment. Ash sees no reason to interrupt her train of thought when it’s so on-track, so he glances at Eiji. “How’d you know Del?”

“Hm?” Eiji has to snap his attention away from Jaden as well. “Oh, she commissioned my boss and I around a year or so.”

“Advertising the place? Like that brochure you did?”

Eiji shakes his head and laughs. “No, no. We were hired to print some of the décor.”

Ash glances around at the black and white canvases hanging up in the diner; pictures of Detroit, caught in a moment. There’s one Ash is particularly fond of—its New York, crowded up the wazoo, highlighting silhouettes of two kids caught in the rain. He can see it if he steals a moment to peer through the windows on the kitchen doors.

“Wait…” Ash’s eyes widen. “ _You_ took these?”

“ _Duh,_ Pops.” Jaden flips through her book. “I saw ‘em in his big book when he bought us home that one time.”

“My portfolio,” Eiji clarifies hastily, scratching his cheek. It’s almost endearing the way his cheeks pepper red. Almost. “Well—no, that’s not—Ibe-san took most of these, I only edited them. The few pictures I took are the ones hanging up by the kitchen. We visited New York a few years ago and—Ms. Marquez asked if she could use them in print for the diner.”

“Hm.”

Ash’s eyes are fixed back on the two kids in the rain. He’s never noticed that all of the were sparrows watching the shadows before.

“You’ve got a good eye, _Eiji_.”

The pleased smile that Eiji tries to hide makes his stomach flip.

It’s a good distraction from nausea.

* * *

_~~Dear Mom,~~ _

_~~I’m doing fine. How are you?~~ _

Eiji tries again.

_~~To Kaa-san,~~ _

_~~I’m not sure what to say to you.~~ _

Eiji tries again.

_~~Kagura,~~ _

_~~You don’t even feel like you were ever my mother.~~ _

Eiji tries again.

_~~You hurt me.~~ _

Eiji puts the pen down, propping his feet up on the coffee table. Outside, the rain hammers against the worn-down glass of his apartment windows, seeping in through the cracks that were promised to be filled two years ago by the landlord.

More broken promises.

The papers are haphazardly organised. The envelopes are still sealed in the plastic they were bought in; the cheap price sticker half-scratched off.

It’s been three hours. Four. Five.

Or seven years.

Time still passes him like grains of sand through his fingertips, and he’s ready to let them blow into his fucking eyes and blind him from the words on the pages of that _fucking_ letter. It’s a ghost at the back of his mind.

_My Eiji, my Eiji._

Eiji’s words turn into a yell as he throws the pen down, kicks the table forward until the legs creak, and flops into bed. The only light is from the stars outside, hidden under storm clouds that won’t stop shrieking.

Eiji just hopes the sparrows are hiding somewhere safe.

* * *

Ash has always known Jaden to be a pretty solitary kid.

As much as Copper refused him contact past the very few supervised visits he had with her as she got older, he’s observant enough about his own kid to know that she isn’t one to gel with other children very well.

Jaden’s like him; likes to read and learn, entertains other kids enough that she gets some social grace out of it. The only difference between her and him is that Jaden at her age prefers the company of adults.

Copper always tried to encourage her to join in on certain things, like taking her to their local Synagogue to join in on the Shabbat; some kid’s service where they sang and told stories, he thinks. Truth is, Ash never really went. Just sort of lingered outside to pick Jaden and Copper up once or twice.

See, Jaden’s smart, but solitary.

Yet as he’s waiting in the waiting area of this school’s office, watching the kids out in the playground, Jaden’s staring out at them _wistfully._

“You wanna tell me anythin’ before we go in there, kid?” Ash murmurs to her, low quiet.

Jaden just shakes her head, curled up on the chair around her stuffed rabbit toy.

Ash taps his fingers on the side of the chair, thinking of how to approach it, and tries again. He taps her on the shoulder to draw her attention. “I’d rather hear your side of the story right now, kid. Dumb grown-ups like that rarely let your voice be heard.”

Jaden stares at him with hesitance clearly dragging those words back into her throat, and she opens her mouth to say something—

“Mr. Ashton?”

Ash puts a hand on Jaden’s shoulder. “Yeah?”

“Ms. Ma’Kaon will see to you now.”

His eyes narrow. “I’m talking to my kid. Can it wait?”

The receptionist’s smile turns icy. “I’m afraid not. She is a very busy woman, and this is already eating into her schedule. Now, if you would?”

Ash gently takes Jaden’s hand in his and looks at her as they both stand up—and he doesn’t miss how pale Jaden looks. “Before we go in, know you are _not_ in trouble with me. Do you understand, kid?” He squeezes her hand. “I will not be angry at you. I’ll find everything out and then I’ll decide what happens, but I will not shout at you.”

Jaden drags her feet. “…Promise?”

“Yubi kitta?”

The little smile that pokes out from behind her stuffed rabbit is worth the terrible attempt of his accented-Japanese. He can already feel Eiji laughing at him for it. Feels a lot for Eiji, these days.

Soon enough, Jaden’s feet are off the ground, kicking back-and-forth on a chair that dwarfs her, that constrains him with how his knees are at an angle; there’s a woman with a tight bun sat in front of him, and all Ash can think of is _how have I faced gross bastards in bed who deprived me of my humanity, yet your face pisses me off more than theirs ever did?_

“I’m sorry to call you in at such short notice—”

“Then make it quick. You said there was an issue with Jaden and another kid?”

This Ms. Ma’Kaon narrows her eyes at him, clears her throat; the bangles on her wrist jangle as her wrist moves. “As you know, this isn’t the first time we’ve had quite the number of issues with Jaden since her transfer here. I understand that all children go through an adjustment period, but we cannot tolerate behaviour like hers.”

Ash blinks. The woman shifts in her seat.

“Alright, so what is it? What’s she done? Need I remind you she’s fucking _seven._ ”

There’s a stack of papers on her desk—reports, it looks like—as she sifts through them. “To name a few minor infractions: talking back to her teachers, her homework not being up to standard, refusing to socialise with her fellow classmates—”

“Wait, _hold on_ a second. Her homework’s been fine. I checked it through with her.”

“—but these are all minor.” Ash still feels a burning in his throat, but he ignores it as the woman continues talking. “What troubles _me_ is her perpetual instinct for violence against her fellow students. We strive to make this a _safe_ learning environment.”

Jaden almost _whimpers_ as she hides behind her stuffed rabbit toy. For the first time, Ash notices there’s a _tear_ in the ear. Ash’s fingers twitch, curling up on the table and clawing at the wood. “You make her sound like some rabid _dog_. Wanna explain what she _did?_ ”

The woman nods. She doesn’t deserve a fucking name. “There was an incident this morning regarding another student who wished to share Jaden’s little toy there,” she gestures with a crude finger. The way Jaden flinches, it makes Ash’s blood _boil_. “I’ll admit he maybe shouldn’t have attempted to reach it, but Jaden reacted by shoving the boy down, causing a cut on his leg.”

Ash’s hand curls into a fist.

“Jaden,” Ash asks in a low drawl, keeping his eyes trained on the woman. “Did this kid try and snatch your toy from you?”

Jaden manages a small nod. “I-I said no. I didn’t wanna share it.”

“And what did he say after you said no to him?”

Jaden swallows, hard, and her skin is paling. Ash can feel her gaze flitting between himself and her teacher. “He kept—tryna take it anyway. He hurt Pineapple.” She curls up into a tighter little ball. “I said no. I said _no._ ”

_I said no. I said no._

“So, let me get this straight,” Ash says, standing up and putting a hand on the table. “My kid gets harassed by this boy trying to steal her _comfort toy,_ which I have explicitly said to your faculty is from her _mother_ who recently passed away and _not_ to take it away from her, repeatedly said no even after this kid put his hands and damages my daughter’s property, put his hands _on her_ , and it’s when she _defends_ herself that you punish her and not the instigator?”

“I—”

“And for that fucking matter, where’s _that_ kid’s parents? Surely they should be here too.”

“Mr. Ashton, I’m going to have to ask that you _sit down._ I am not at liberty to discuss other children’s parents; this meeting is about Jaden.” 

“I don’t fucking think so. You called me in to talk, that’s what I’m doing.” Jaden’s staring up at him with wide eyes, his hand is still on the desk.

“Jaden _defended_ herself. Her homework is _fine._ If she doesn’t want to get all chummy with kids who routinely isolate her, then you should be taking steps to make her feel welcome, not _punishing_ her. And as for her _violent instinct…_ where the fuck do you get that idea?”

“I will not be insulted in my own office.” The woman adjusts her glasses. “Certain… types of children are more prone to violence than others. Jaden seems to be amongst that ilk. I’m sure you can understand, raising a child like her so different than you.”

 _So different?_ What is she insinuating—

Ash’s eyes drift to a class picture hung up in the office. Jaden’s off to the side, but it’s not the only thing he notices.

_Oh, fuck no._

The _‘talking back’?_ It’s usually Jaden being smart and correcting something. She came home the other day and tried straightening her hair. Being socially isolated? She didn’t grow up with these kids, but—

Every other kid is as pasty as he is, and Ash’s blood turns to a flare gun.

“…You have got to be fucking kidding me.” Ash’s knuckles turn _white._ “Are you suggesting she’s violent by nature… because she’s _black?_ ”

“Look, perhaps—”

“No, no. _Fuck_ this. Jaden, get your coat.”

Jaden peers up at him from behind her rabbit. “Pops…?”

“You can’t just walk out of this meeting! We have—”

“If your answer to my kid getting harassed is some backwards thinking that somehow her skin colour is a testament to her character, then _fuck_ you. I’m not keeping her in this environment. Safe space my fucking ass.”

“Just _where_ do you think—”

Once Jaden’s zipped her coat up, he takes her by the hand and holds it tight. “Jaden’s not coming back here. Do me a favour and write her off your fucking registration list.”

_She said no. She said no. She said no and he ignored her, nowhere is safe, she’s gonna get hurt with me—_

“Ash?”

And suddenly they’re in Eiji’s car, Jaden’s curled up in the backseat and asleep, and Ash is gripping his hands so much he can feel his palms start to get wetter underneath his nails. Ash startles, ignores Eiji warm brown eyes that look honey-glazed, and stares out of the window.

“What.”

Eiji flinches. “Don’t use that tone with me. I’m just worried.”

“Then don’t worry, Jesus fucking Christ. I’m fine.”

“Alright, that’s _enough.”_ Eiji bristles more, swivels around to glare at Ash. “Don’t tell me what to do _in my own car._ I’m worried because you’re my friend. You’re _bleeding._ ”

 _Huh?_ Ash looks down at his hand and releases his fingernails from his palm. There are red grooves imprinted. “…Oh. I—” Ash sighs, flopping his head back against the seat. “Shit.”

“Shit indeed. Now get some money out to put in Jaden’s swear jar.”

That brings a smile to his face if nothing else.

Ash is already counting the dollar bills when Eiji takes his glasses off and hangs them on his collar. The car is still at an impasse. “Why are you so angry? I get this—stuff is probably private but—”

“Apparently saying _no_ and defending yourself counts as assault, if it’s toward a rich white kid trying to steal something that doesn’t belong to him.”

Eiji stills. _“What?”_

“I put Jaden in that school because I’d read it was diverse. She was in an all-white class. And they made her out to be some rabid _dog._ Apparently I don’t understand that because she’s _different_ than me.”

Eiji swears—at least, Ash thinks he does—something in Japanese. He’s practically spitting it. It startles Ash again, makes him smile. Something about that unfiltered vitriol is pretty heartening.

(He wonders, for a moment, if Eiji would maybe be the same if he told him about—

And then he doesn’t.)

“Want me to write an exposé piece on them?”

Ash barks out a laugh. “What would that fucking do? They’d just get more people on their side and claim it was for _the good of the school_.” Ash looks back at Jaden, curls his fist up again. “Copper used to say her Dad told her to be twice as good to be half as recognised. I’m not gonna let Jaden be in a place where that’s a fucking mantra she has to abide by.”

“I don’t blame you.”

Ash’s lips purse. “She said _no._ ”

_I said no._

_(They never listen.)_

“I know she did, Ash.”

And the conversation ends.

* * *

It’s three in the morning as Eiji sits at his computer, photographs spilled all over his screen like post-it-notes on a bulletin board. Outside, the rain screeches at him to get into bed, to rest, to… be a functional human being.

But the thing is, Okumura Eiji is 25 years old, has made one of the first friends he’s had in years aside from Ibe and his own sister, and he’s pretty sure he’s got an affection for his friend’s daughter that shouldn’t apply to a kid that isn’t even _his._

And the way that last conversation tapered off—

People are more than they appear. Photographs capture candid reactions or posed falsities. Either way, they’re a moment in a moment; a frame of motion, you can’t capture an entire conversation no matter how many words a picture is worth.

Eiji sighs, sticking a fork into the pasta he’s cooked for himself, and ties his hair back into a messy bun.

He opens up one picture of Ash, mid-jump on the skateboard; of Jaden in the foreground with delight in her eyes as she claps. He’s behind that camera too, of course, and remembers the sky clearing of rain to shine down on the park.

He drags the picture into his editing program and begins the lighting alterations.

The green of both Ash and Jaden’s eyes pop against the sunlight.

* * *

There’s nobody around, this time.

Ash prowls Detroit’s alleys like a cat on the hunt, searching for the most uninhabited areas. They’re cleaner than New York’s, and that makes it all the more foreign. Detroit isn’t for him. This isn’t his city, no matter how real it feels compared to the cosmopolitan mask the big apple wears.

There’s nothing here save some stray pigeon feathers. Ash unlocks his phone, Jaden’s gap-toothed smile staring right back at him. Ash savours the image for a moment, before dropping his smile and dialing a familiar number.

It won’t be traced. He’s made sure of it.

_“Hello, you’ve reached the Chang Dai restaurant. How can I—”_

Ash could almost smirk at the familiar voice. _Still on phone duty, huh? Nadia must really be peeved at you._ He leans on the red-bricked wall, red converse flat against it, tucking his thumb into his jean pockets. “I’d like to make a complaint about your chef. The one with the buzz cut. Shit in the kitchen. Any way to get him fired?”

There’s silence for a good, long while.

Shorter’s static voice comes out dark, and slow. _“Ash?”_

“Bingo,” Ash sighs, craning his head up. “I’m sorry.”

_“Did something happen? Do you need me too come to you—”_

There’s a familiarity, in how quick Shorter is to jump the gun, even quicker to follow Ash into hell. It makes him smile, despite himself. “Nah. I just need a favour.”

_“Ash—”_

“Copper sometimes used your computer, right? When she needed to apply for jobs.”

 _“Yeah, she did. Never saved anything to it past some old resumes, but it’s been a while since she was round ours.”_ There’s shuffling on the end of the line; it must be a slow shift, he can hear Shorter barking out something to Nadia in Cantonese. He never really got the hand of learning other languages past French and Russian. Japanese is a bitch with its alphabets. _“Why?”_

Shorter’s going to be pissed if Ash leaves him out; as close as they are, he was friends with Copper, too. Absolutely adored Skip. Treated Jaden like blood.

(He wonders, sometimes, if Copper wishes Shorter had been the one to knock her up.)

“I need it.” Ash rubs the back of his neck, popping a joint. “I can’t say why, but I need you to send it all to me. Every scrap, every document. Don’t leave anything unsent.”

_“On it.”_

“Thanks, Shorter. I appreciate it.”

A static-filled sigh rings in his ears; his lullaby for the night, a record that won’t stop spinning. Shorter’s pacing again; he can hear the footfalls.

_“You’re tracking down who did this to her, aren’t you?”_

Ash doesn’t answer and just lets his silence speak for himself.

Shorter groans and carries on. _“You stubborn bastard. I know why you can’t tell anyone where you are but just give me a fucking hint so I can find you! I can—I don’t know, do something to help! If it really was Golzine that ordered that hit, there’re things we could maybe do to put a dent in ‘em, keep you and Jaden safe here—”_

“Shorter,” and for the first time, Ash really does sink to his knees, tucked up against that wall. He feels like that little kid back at the Cape, pleading for his big brother to come home whilst smoke comes out of a gun. “I have a kid.”

And somewhere in New York, he pictures, there’s Shorter Wong sitting crossed-legged on the floor. He shaved his purple mohawk ages ago when the hair dye had all-but ruined the strands; now it’s a buzz-cut, short-cropped, greyish-brown. Maybe he’s grown it out. Maybe he hasn’t. 

He pictures Shorter, in the reflection of the puddles from fall’s meltwater off of those alley icicles. It gets cold here, in Detroit.

 _“Yeah,”_ he replies. _“You do, Ash.”_

“I have a kid. She’s six. Almost seven. _I have a kid._ ”

_“Yeah.”_

And Ash sits there, rainwater soaked up by the denim in his jeans. It’ll chafe later; he’ll complain, Jaden’ll laugh. That little laugh, like a soft bell chiming in the wind. It almost makes the sleepless nights worth it.

And yet—

Ash puts his head in his hand. “Copper was supposed to tell her about me when I kicked the bucket, not the other way around. I—fuck, I don’t know anything about her. I forgot that she had _dietary restrictions_ , Shorter.”

_“Because she’s Jewish?”_

“Yeah. I forgot my own kid was Jewish.” The stab in his heart seeps into his voice as it breaks into a dry laugh. _You know my own kid better than I do._ “Guess Jim was right after all.”

_“Jim? Who’s—”_

“Never mind. Doesn’t matter.”

Ash wonders if New York’s streets are filled with cars. Yellow-rank taxis, people sticking their fingers into their mouths and whistling hard. Beckoning to peruse; begging to move even an inch to get home.

Chinatown was bathed in golden light when it wanted to be; the scent of street food washing down the drains in a midnight monsoon as he showed up to the Chang Dai a drowned street rat, over and over until he found his footing.

Ash wonders if Shorter sat there at the back the night Copper died and raised a glass to her. If smoke from his cigarette curled up toward the sky where he and Shorter both know Copper flies with angels.

_Nah, if anything, she’s cleaning shop up there and leading them to better days. She always did like to try and see the good in the worst of humanity._

Shorter’s voice returns. _“Ash, just tell me where you are, okay? I’ll come to you. I can help you out.”_

Ash resists the urge to tighten that ball and tremble. He’s not eight years old anymore. He’s not that kid in his coach’s bed practically whoring out his own safety because of his father’s lack of action. He’s not. He’s _not._

(And yet, that boy never left.

He’s in Jaden, whenever he lets her go out of his sight.)

Like always, he takes the easy way out. “I gotta go, Shorter.”

_“Ash! C’mon, dude, don’t do this to me again, please—”_

Ash’s hands clench into fists until his knuckles turn pallor. Rests it against his eyes. Blocks out all the rest. “Send me those files.”

_“ASH!”_

“Later, Shorter.”

Whatever else Shorter had left to say is lost to the static connection, fizzling out in his ears. It’s probably a good thing anyway; if he hears any more of Shorter’s voice, he might just …

The phone clatters onto the floor, cracking the screen over Jaden’s smiling face.

* * *

Children learn how to grow through the shadows of their peers. The problem with kids who eavesdrop, however, is that much like shadows, they hear the conversation without seeing the finer details of what makes those speakers human.

They hear words, associate it with the worst parts of nature, and blow it out of proportion. Maybe we never truly outgrow those tendencies.

Jaden’s no exception, Eiji’s discovered. She may read above her grade-level, use big words to moan and lament over her father, but she’s still only a child.

And when he picks her up from school after a rushed text from Ash, when they’re driving in his car so that Jaden can let them in, the sullen way she drops her shoulders and averts her gaze sends up bloody flags and blaring foghorns.

Jaden’s cuddled around that little rabbit toy of hers, scraps of paper dropped all over the floor. Jaden’s feet drag all the way up the stairs, and she doesn’t even go for the biscuit tin as she moseys home.

All Jaden does is curl up on the couch, her blue and red rucksack left abandoned with the bright purple label inside sticking out like a sore thumb. _JAGBAG,_ it reads, lovingly handstitched.

“Jaden…?” Tentatively, Eiji approaches, deserting the idea of dinner in favour of going over to her, sitting down where she’s curled up. “Did something happen at school?”

Jaden’s binary-green eyes are red-rimmed when she glares up at him. “Why are you tryna act like a Pops? It’s ‘nonya business.”

“I’m not, I just asked—”

“I said I don’t wanna talk ‘bout it! Stop being _dumb!”_ She rolls over with a huff. “I’m _fine.”_

 _You are such a mother-hen, Eiji._ Kaori’s words echo in his brain.

There was a time when he was a kid, where he saved Kaori’s life. She doesn’t remember it, much, and most of the memory eludes Eiji to this day, but—

He dealt with the fallout years later when she was nine. Kaori was always a shy, awkward kid, clinging to her big brother for scant opportunities of socialisation.

There had been this group of kids she tried to click with, and one day, they were going to go jumping into the ocean, and being desperate to fit in, she had tried to force herself to go with them. When she backed out at the last minute, they tried to force her to jump anyway, and that resulted in Kaori’s first genuine panic attack; in purple bruises all over Eiji’s face as he charged them to get away from his kid sister.

Kaori’s still terrified of water to this day. It took three days of radio silence from Kaori until she admitted it to him, to their parents, that it was worse than what she said.

 _You can’t force kids to talk and expect them to trust you afterward,_ Kaori had advised him, _but you can make it feel safe enough so that they come to you._

“Alright.”

Jaden’s head shoots up, furrowing her brow. “Huh?”

“You do not want to talk about it. I said _alright._ ” Eiji folds his hands in his lap. “Are you hungry?”

“I—” Jaden’s eyes narrow at him, sniffing behind her rabbit. “…Pops’s right. You’re _weird._ ”

“Weird,” he raises a finger, trying to ignore the blatant insult. “And a _far_ better cook.”

Usually, Jaden stands on her toes over the counter, pointing out Eiji’s mistakes in _“not adding enough spices”,_ or “ _chopping the vegetables too big”._ She delights in a way to help out; sometimes he’ll lift her under her arms so she can stir, or flip whatever is cooking on the stove.

This time, Jaden just watches him from the kitchen table, hidden underneath with those green eyes stark against the shadows creeping in. She watches him like a hawk unable to fly.

When Eiji finally finishes cooking—it’s just a simple vegetable curry for now—Jaden makes no effort to crawl out. She just stays in her little ball, clutching her rabbit, eyes puffy and red.

“You don’t want to eat?”

Jaden shrugs at him—he supposes that’s his answer for now. With a sigh, Eiji sits cross-legged on the floor, ignoring the pain in his ankle. Eiji strays on the border of the kitchen table’s shadow where Jaden dwells, and only the distant sound of the clock can be heard.

Kaori often chose to hide underneath her bed, surrounded in blankets. Eiji would retreat to the beach and stare out at the sea birds on the coastal frontline for hours.

Children are weird, weird things. He’ll never understand them until he gets on their level.

“…Why’d you help Pops, Eiji?”

Eiji hums, tapping his fingers on his left knee. “Because I want to?”

That isn’t good enough. Jaden scowls and folds her arms. “But—but you gotta get _somethin’_ outta it. Nobody’s _that_ nice.” She tilts her head. “D’you fancy Pops? ‘s that it?”

A hair’s breadth away. That’s how close Eiji comes to choking. He disguises it valiantly with a sharp cough and ignores the heat suffusing his cheeks pink. “N-No, that’s not the reason I help him out.”

It’s not the smoothest recovery, but Jaden seems to buy it as she blinks slowly at him. “It’s like I said: because I want to.” Honesty’s the best policy, so he adds, “and he’s my friend, I suppose. I want to look out for him, and you.”

“Look out for ‘im?”

“That’s right,” Eiji confirms with a nod. “Friends look out for each other.”

“Does Pops look out for you?”

And—that gives Eiji pause. The words are awkward on his tongue. “I’m not really in a place where I need someone looking after me, but if something came up, I trust that Ash would want to help me.”

“You ain’t got no one else?”

The way Jaden speaks endears Eiji to her more than he should let himself, for a kid that isn’t his own; he’s not ignorant to the way she’s slowly shuffling out of the shadows. “I have my friend, Ibe—you remember the man who took your picture day photographs?” She gives a hesitant little nod. “I have my little sister, too.”

“Kaori?”

“That’s right,” Eiji says with a fond laugh as he reaches over and pokes the star-shaped hair slide in her braid, pinning her bangs back. With the winter, her fluffy-brown hair is even curlier. “I have them, I have Ash.”

“But you don’t got a Mom? Or a Pops?”

For a moment, Eiji’s heart stutters. Going into the complicated family climate of _my father died whilst I was overseas and my mother disowned me for being transgender only to reach out seven years later_ is something he isn’t sure how to translate into _child talk,_ so simplicity is beautifully effective save the lack of nuance and context.

“My… my Pops—Tou-san, I call him—he, uh, he died a long time ago.” The scent of lilacs still makes his eyes water, makes his throat close. “And my mother, or Kaa-san, she… she’s in Japan right now, so I can’t really see her that often.”

_Nor do I want to. She’s a void of a person, whistling nothing but noxious gas._

“Oh. That blows.” Jaden brings her knees up to her chin. The toes of her scuffed sneakers poke into the light. “How did your Pops—your Tosan—die?”

_No doubt thinking of her mother._

“He… he got very sick. He tried to fight it, but in the end he just… needed to sleep.”

Something to that makes Jaden’s green eyes glassy, twisting her expression until it’s crumpling up like a discarded draft written on paper. The brown skin on her scuffed knees are highlighted by New York’s golden afternoon, breaking through the cracks in the blinds.

“My Mami…” Jaden lets out a little sniffle. There’s a weight on her shoulders that’ll make her bones creak for the rest of her life. “She’s gone for real, ain’t she? Mami ain’t never comin’ back.”

Her fingernails dig into the plush linings of her stuffed rabbit.

“She’s never comin’ home.”

 _Fuck it._ Chancing a kid’s reaction is better than being a bystander. Eiji puts an arm around Jaden’s shoulders, and to his surprise, she _leans into him._ Tucks herself right into his side, as if she were always made to slot there. Jaden’s not making any effort to cling back to him, instead wholeheartedly trusting him to provide comfort.

It makes Eiji’s heart feel tight in his chest.

“Is that why you were so sad today? You were thinking about your mother?”

It’s not an unreasonable guess, Eiji reckons, but Jaden hides her face in her stuffed rabbit and shakes her head.

“I always think’ve her. She makes me happy to think’ve.” The pause that lingers between her words makes Eiji’s anxiety spike. Kids shouldn’t be _asking_ questions like this, not with such a somber tone. _Jaden_ shouldn’t be so sad. “Eiji, would your Ma—your Kasan, would she come visit if you asked?”

Eiji swallows down dredge in his throat; it sinks in his gut like a stone. “Yes, I think she would.”

“And she—she loves you? Even when you’re bad?”

“Jaden,” Eiji nudges her shoulder, prompting her to lift her head. Her eyes are puffy and watery. “Jaden, can you tell me what the matter is? Why do you want to know?”

A few of those tears slip down her puppy-fat cheeks, fogging up her glasses. “Eiji,” she croaks, “I think Pops is gonna leave me _._ ”

Ice strikes Eiji’s heart.

He’s _never_ been wrong about his perceptions before. Eiji knows what good and bad parents look like, understands people fairly well. Nothing has even _clocked_ as a red flag with how Ash treats Jaden—he’s stressed, perhaps, but he never took it out on Jaden, Jaden doesn’t show any shrinking behaviours.

Even now, Jaden doesn’t seem scared of _Ash._ She seems scared of driving him _away._

“Why do you say that?”

_I don’t want to know the answer. But I need to._

Jaden shakes in his arms and begins to sniffle. “He did this before. When I was little. I—I remember ‘im. A bit.”

“What is Ash doing?”

By now, the dam’s bursting out of her eyes; brave little soldier girl, she’s holding the frontline as she clenches those pudgy little fists as she tries to explain, to fumble through the memories of a little girl.

“Mami—never told me why Pops left me, just that he-he was doin’ somethin’ too scary for kids to be ‘round. But I-I remember ‘em fightin’, round Uncle Shorter’s, when he came t’see me once, on my birthday when I was...” She counts on her fingers. “Five. It was after the party. I was s’posed to be sleepin’, but I… heard them. A ‘lil bit.”

A sudden memory flashes through his head like lightning; outside, the thunder _cracks_ through the sky, and his brows shoot up. Of his little kid sister, Kaori, hiding behind the coat rack as their parents fought, as Eiji held her whilst the shadows jerked and flailed, strangled by the tension hanging overhead.

Now, he imagines Jaden listening to those shadows, barely five years old, petrified into silence. Ash would have barely been twenty. Ash was still a kid in his own right.

_You love this girl more than anything, Ash. I’ve seen it. So, why would you ever leave her?_

“What did you hear?”

“Mami was _real_ angry,” Jaden says as she crawls into Eiji’s lap, hooks her hands into his shirt. “Pops was, too. Mami kept sayin’ that he couldn’t keep doin’ stuff like that. I dunno what that stuff was, just that it was stuff that coulda got ‘im in trouble. Uncle Shorter tried t’stick up for Pops, but Mami got angry with _him,_ too. Said she couldn’t see another ‘lil kid hurt because of what they did.”

There are too many holes in that story. Eiji could try—a kid getting hurt? Dangerous work? Maybe criminal affiliations? Eiji isn’t sure.

He’s got a crying girl in his arms. Time for theorising can come later.

“Pops didn’t see me for another year after it. I think he’s doin’ dangerous stuff again. He keeps… keeps callin’ people, lockin’ himself with his computer. He’s like Mami. Always tired. Says he can’t tell me. It’s grownup stuff.”

 _That_ makes the ice in his heart shatter, embed itself into his throat.

“I just got him _back,_ Eiji.” Jaden whimpers into his shirt, and Eiji’s resolve breaks; hesitantly, he hugs her back. “I just got him _back._ ”

* * *

The only people studying in the library are those who work the rumour mills about the place; dusty books pile up beside them with half-acknowledged papers as they peruse social media. University-grade books if Ash had to hazard a guess. They cluster in little groups and mutter about deadlines that, in another world, Ash would dare to dream about as a possibility.

Japanese is a hard language to puzzle through. Different stresses, three alphabets depending on the type of word, and that’s not even getting him _started_ on Kanji. Eiji’s got a habit of tracing certain symbols into Jaden’s hand whenever she gets stressed.

Ash will admit that it has him curious. Eiji just winks conspiratorially whenever he asks what they mean.

But even though he has those language books on idle standby, even though the image of surprising Eiji with the odd phrase is enticing, they aren’t his main draw for being here today.

Everything in Copper’s personal folders were non-descript at _best._ Odd pictures of Jaden (that make his heart squeeze with fondness) turned up empty after scanning them; she was never one to write down her feelings plainly, and even though it’s all labelled and organised, all the folders are _empty._

Most of the contents are junk at best. Resumes, copies of emails to employers, rejection notices, that sort of thing.

So _why_ put all of this under lock-and-key?

Was she that paranoid about Golzine following her?

Ash flicks through another folder. This one only has one document labelled _RESUME_CC_PGARCIA_JAGBAG48226.dox._ Just a cover letter applying for a job for some restaurant—the address isn’t on the resume itself, but makes sense, at least. Copper _was_ a waitress before she was killed.

Shorter emailed him this not long ago. Apparently this was saved in an unknown draft with his name alias’ address in the contact information.

_Dear Sir,_

_As you can check from my attached resume, I am experienced in over two years’ worth of experience in the waitressing industry, and I believe the knowledge and skills in being a supervisor in that time have built up during this time make me the perfect candidate for the role._

_In my current role as Supervisor for the Cultural Espresso store, I have been responsible for running day-to-day shifts and scheduling the rotas, as well as ordering and taking in new stock. I am also responsible for training new employees and deciding which ones are appropriate after their probationary period._

_To label myself as confident may be a stretch, however I am confident that with my experiences as both a waitress in prior establishments as well as my supervisor role, I will be a worth addition to your already-strong team of employees._

_And, of course, if you so choose to accept me on your team, I believe this culmination of experience will allow me to hit the ground running and contribute to your team as soon as possible with little need for delay._

_I hope to please, and bag, both this opportunity and more success should this extend more than an application. I thank you for your time and consideration and hope to hear back from you soon._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Penelope Garcia._

None of it makes any goddamned _sense._

Fuck, _what_ did Golzine even have to _gain_ by killing Copper? Outside of his brief little fucking fling with her as a teenager, Golzine had no _idea_ Copper even existed. Ash certainly never let on to her identity, and Golzine has more to gain by killing _Shorter_ than some random girl.

(Not that he hasn’t tried.)

Sure, it wouldn’t be past Golzine to be petty about someone else getting their hands on his “pet”, but he could have just sent one person to kill her. Not an entire _squad._

Not to mention, how in the fuck were all Golzine’s goons _dead_ when they got to her? Had she wired up her entire fucking house? She never said anything about knowing how to fight, save keeping entitled bastards off of her back with a knife as a teenager.

Copper was never even in his gang.

(She never would have been. Copper Garcia had _dreams,_ dammit _._ )

Why wouldn’t she just _tell_ him what was happening?

Ash groans, clicking through his laptop again. None of it makes any _sense._

Ash sinks into his hand and massages his temples. The screen may as well be behind his eyelids with how much the light has stuck there, and the glare from his glasses is no better for the incoming migraine.

_You never made figuring you out easy, did you, Copper?_

And then, Ash is back in the waiting room.

He’s back in the waiting room, but his patience is somewhere in Kansas, somewhere in Cape Cod, somewhere in New York. Either way, it doesn’t fucking exist here, and he sees his kid tired and angry and with a cut poorly bandaged on her forehead because of _course_ she has.

He’s spent the last 48 hours trying to research why her mother is fucking dead. Now he’s dealing with this shit.

“…Pops?”

“What,” he clips, and Jaden just shrinks back down into the chair.

“…Nothin’.”

A good father would console his fucking kid. Tell her that she can tell him anything.

Suffice to say, Ash isn’t a good fucking father. Jim was right—all he gonna do is fuck her up, all he’s ever going to do is make her life miserable. When did he ever do any good for Jaden anyway? Ash is nothing to her, past be something that can earn her money for her future.

Fuck, Jaden would be far better off if Ash just put her in care, whoring himself out to provide for her. Less psychological damage. Less chance of building up hope in her mind that he can be good for anyone.

( _“I can’t see another kid killed, Aslan! I don’t—I can’t let Jaden become Skipper!”_

_Good call, Copper. Now you’re dead. And I don’t even know why Golzine murdered you.)_

Eiji’s waiting outside because of course, he is. That guy’s too naïve and nice and—shit, maybe he should just leave Jaden with him, but then he can’t because Eiji probably couldn’t shoot a gun to save his life and Jaden needs a human weapon to protect her—

Oh. He’s in the office, now.

The same woman as before looks like she’s sucked a fucking lemon as she stares at him. Ma’Kaon, or something? Ash didn’t care to remember then; he certainly won’t now. Jaden’s hovering by the door instead of sitting in a seat; Ash is still standing.

He’s not going to be here long.

“I only sent her back here because I’m working on getting her home-schooled.” Ash glowers, making the woman shrink in her seat. He tries, _tries_ not to feel a sick sense of giddiness at how she squirms. “So, what has she done this time? Lashed out? Spoke back? _Said no?_ ”

The woman adjusts her glasses. “There is no need for her to come back here. She’s on an indefinite expulsion.”

Jaden’s breathing stutters. Ash curls his fist. “ _What for?”_

The reason, really, doesn’t matter. All Ash remembers is that he scoffed, laughed, kicked a chair over in the office, and pretty much dragged out Jaden by her hand. Something about Jaden kicking a kid in the face after she was pinned down and hurt. And of course, _they weren’t at liberty to discuss the other kid._

He’d sent Jaden straight back into the wolves. Of course, this time, they came with larger numbers.

The car ride home is silent, but Ash’s head is a foghorn. Eiji may have said something to him, may have not; the car door slams behind him as Jaden stalks slowly.

“Hurry _up,_ Jaden.” And that just makes her wilt further but—fuck, _fuck_ this.

Jaden immediately goes into her room and closes the door without even saying goodnight to Eiji; and he doesn’t care, doesn’t fucking care. He opens up a drawer and pulls out a packet of cigs—he’s not done this since Griff, but he lights and lets the smoke curl around his lungs and choke out any further stress.

Eiji’s still lingering in the door, brows furrowed. Ash taps the end of his cigarette. “What?”

Unlike Jaden, Eiji doesn’t flinch at his tone. “You need to watch your attitude around her, like that. I understand you’re angry but—”

“You’re not her fucking parent, Eiji. Don’t try and tell me how to raise her.”

Eiji straightens up. “Need I remind you that I’ve been picking her up from school three days a week since we became friends? I notice things, Ash.”

“Nobody asked you too.”

“And I said I was _happy_ to,” Eiji counters, taking a few steps toward him. “That doesn’t mean you get to talk to me like I’m shit on the bottom of your shoe just because you’re having a bad day.”

Ash laughs, smog surrounding his face. He could almost choke if he weren’t so used to being on fire. “So, that entitles you to give me free parental advice?”

“It _means_ your attitude there was scaring her!” Eiji massages his temples and counts, 5-7-5, takes a deep breath, and tries again. Someone’s been to therapy. Wonder if they analysed his fucking brain, too. “I know you love Jaden. I would never contest that. But kids absorb the reactions of their parents, Ash, she—she looked terrified when you slammed that door.”

That—Ash stills.

Then taps his cigarette. “Doesn’t surprise me. I’m a stranger to her.”

“No, you’re _not._ You’re her father.”

Ash snorts. Smoke fills the apartment, wafting towards Eiji. Sooner or later, he’ll be set on fire, too. Jaden’s got the door closed, probably has her ear pressed against it. Has the stench gotten to her, too?

“I’m a name on a birth certificate. The less she learns from me, the better.”

Eiji _groans._ “Enough with the martyr act! Why are you so insistent that you don’t matter as a person to her?”

Ash stares at Eiji like he’s grown a second head. It probably looks like that stupid bird he wears on those shirts. Eiji’s so fucking _weird._

“Are you _stupid,_ Eiji?” And _that—makes_ Eiji flinch. Ash almost feels bad. “What kind of value would she see in a fucking screwup like me? If she hates me, gets scared of me—I don’t give a shit. The less she takes from me the less fucked up she’ll be. At least I can give her a better headstart than my old man gave me—”

“ _Ash!”_

Ash’s cigarette almost drops from his fingers.

“You have more value than just being a body that provides for her.” Eiji almost looks… _upset?_ “Don’t you know she needs you because you’re **_you_? **You have value for just being yourself, Ash! The longer you don’t realise that the more you’re going to hurt her!”

Ash’s mouth gapes—once, twice, swallows hard.

Eiji takes another breath.

“I’m not arguing with you about this anymore. You’re right, she isn’t my kid.” Eiji puts his hands into his pockets and turns back. “But I know what a bad parent looks like. And trust me, Ash. You’re not one of them.”

The apartment is filled with smoke by the time Eiji leaves Ash in the dust, blinkered.

* * *

There are scrunched-up papers all over his apartment.

Eiji fills his walls with photographs, but in a box in the corner are reminders of his childhood. He’s sitting next to it right now, with the lights flickering from the storm outside.

_You have more value than just being a body that provides for her. Don’t you know she needs you because you’re **you?** You have value for just being yourself, Ash! The longer you don’t realise that, the more you’re going to hurt her!_

Those words linger in his brain. It’s funny that he knows what to say to a guy he’s barely known for half a year about his own kid; and he’s known his own mother all his life, yet the words don’t come.

They don’t come.

They never do.

Eiji swears, downs a glass of brandy, relishes in how it burns the back of his throat, and abandons the pen to the carpeted floor.

The day begins anew.

The days where Eiji arrives into work with doggie bags smelling liked baked goods and cups of coffee, that’s when his co-workers’ all clamour around him like he’s their saviour in a dessert, leading them to an oasis. He’ll be cashing in those favours for the next few weeks. It’s a circular economy.

“You’re a lifesaver, Ei-chan,” Ibe sags with relief as the caffeine slides down his throat.

Eiji slips into his computer chair and rests his head on his hand. “Another busy day?”

The momentary relief is forgotten—Ibe strokes his beard. “Ah… you could say that. An old friend of mine asked me to go through some files of when we were in New York. It’s going to take a while.”

“New York?” Now _that—_ that gets Eiji’s attention. Even though most of the scarring has dulled over time, New York remains a hazy memory. “That was almost seven years ago. We didn’t do much whilst we were there, did we?”

Ibe rubs his hand over his jaw, moves it to the back of his neck to massage a knot. “Well, not in practise, but—ah, thanks, Maxine. Just put it on my desk.”

Maxine raises a hand as she hands over a few papers of completed works, pats Eiji on the shoulder with her ringed finger as she passes. “Thanks for the coffee, Eiji. It’s hella needed with all these deadlines.”

“No problem,” Eiji says—he’ll never understand that girl _or_ her wife’s constant need to use the word _hella,_ but each to their own—and leans back in to talk with Ibe, more hushed and private. “But…?”

Ibe sighs, but he doesn’t meet Eiji’s eyes again. Instead, the glare of the computer screen becomes a veil. “He didn’t say what it was about, but if I know Lobo, it’s because he wants to amp up his investigation into something there, something _big_. I’m guessing he’s hoping what we were working on for _New York Sense_ had something even tangentially related. Either way, I owe him.”

 _Lobo?_ The name doesn’t ring a bell. “Did something happen?”

“One of his informants passed away not long ago I think, though he didn’t say so much in words. He’s been pretty shaken up. It was a young one, apparently. Probably around your age.”

Eiji bristles at the idea of being called _young,_ but his eyes soften.

Because he remembers the sheer desperation in Ibe’s voice as he lay there in that New York hospital, all those years ago. Recalls the furious rage in his voice as he shouted down the phone at the senior staff of _New York Sense,_ the floodgates of relief when Eiji finally woke up.

That concrete jungle almost became Eiji’s tomb, far away from his family that still resided in Japan—his sister, his mother, just before his father passed and was laid to rest in that lilac-scented graveyard.

He wonders if this _Lobo_ feels the same about his informant that Ibe does toward Eiji.

“How do you still have the files? I thought _New York Sense_ confiscated it all after you dropped the threat of the lawsuit.”

“They asked for the _originals.”_ Ibe just smiles to himself, wry and coy; Eiji sees it in the reflection of the window. “Always make a copy of any work you do, Ei-chan. Even the ghosts of our work can inflict damage to those who deserve it.”

Outside, the rain pours, and the sparrows start to shriek.

* * *

Jaden’s screams rip through Ash’s usual cocktails of nightmares that night; within seconds he’s barging through her door without a second to lose, gun strapped to his side.

Every time, it’s just a nightmare. Every time, he finds her huddled up in her blanket, scrambling her way toward the closet.

“Jaden, Jaden!” Ash tucks the gun back into his side and skids on his knees along the grooves in the carpet and takes her hand in his. “Jaden, it’s me, it’s me! Kid, it’s _me._ ”

And Jaden will look up at him with those big, teary doe eyes, like she did when hidden in the closet the night Copper died, register that her Mami really is never coming back, and break all over again. The time for getting her to snap out of the flashbacks is shaving off, at least.

Now, they’re sat on the floor against the wall, staring up at the hints of daybreak in Detroit’s night sky.

Jaden’s still sniffling into his shoulder when she curls a fist into his shirt. “Pops?”

“Mm?”

Jaden’s pudgy little hands tremble. “Why don’t prayers work?”

“I…” Ash’s heart begins to fracture. His hand, which was gently stroking through her curly brown hair, stills. _No Gods walk Detroit’s urban jungle. If they did, I’d have questions._ “What do you mean, kid?”

“Mami used to do them, before bedtime. Said that—that her Daddy did it with her, too. The—the bedtime prayer. I-I can’t remember the long name.”

“Kriat Shema al hamita,” Ash relays, and Jaden nods, a little surprised. “Yeah, I remember when she did that. She used to put your hands together when you were a _real_ little baby,” Ash takes her in his arms and tickles her neck, heart squeezing with fondness at the giggle he can bring out of her. “ _And_ she did it to pretend you could talk early.”

“She really, _really_ did that?”

“Mm-hm. Really, _really._ ”

The question is probably lingering on Jaden’s mind. _Why did you leave?_

And if she asks it, it’ll break her heart all over again that he can’t—he’s not ready for his own daughter to hate him.

So, Ash watches as Jaden’s lips curl into a pout, her brows furrowing. “Why don’t they work? Why—why didn’t they work for Mami? For me? It hurts, Pops, I don’t…” Jaden curls up into a ball, her eyes going glassy. “I forgot to say it the night Mami—when the monsters came.”

She stares up at him, pleading for the truth. “Was it my fault? Is that why they don’t work?”

Religion isn’t Ash’s friend. It’s a cold, icy reminder that people who claim to do good use it as a weapon, a justification, an _excuse_ to fuck underage kids bloody. _A service,_ one guy called it. Dino claimed, over and over again, that he was a good man, that God would save his soul.

Just confess all your sins! That’ll absolve you of the child weeping in the corner whose insides are scrambled because you have no concept of mercy except applying to yourself for your dented moral compass.

 _Bastards_.

But Jaden—it’s not a weapon against her. It’s not a red-hot poker; it’s a hearth, warming her heart. It’s a connection she has to Copper, who lays somewhere in a New York cemetery, alone. A red thread, still binding mother and daughter.

For her, it’s _faith._

This isn’t something he should be the one to talk to her about. This should have been Copper. But, like he said to Jaden in the car— _Mami_ isn’t here. Ash, he’s all Jaden’s got right now, for better or worse.

“It was never your fault, Jaden. I want you to remember that,” Ash begins, and gently, he lifts Jaden up into his arms. Together, they walk toward the stars as Ash carries her to the window, and points to the galactic canopy not drowned out by light pollution; to the way they glint off of the river.

Jaden’s eyes remain transfixed on Ash.

“You weren’t to blame because you forgot to say a prayer. Just like your Mami wasn’t bad when she lost her parents, your grandparents. It’s…” Ash struggles for the words. He tries, tries, _hopes_ it’s enough. “Prayers are—good. When you need to get something out, like a bad feeling, or when you’re trying to figure out what you want. Why do you pray at night, Jaden?”

“Um…” Jaden clings to him tighter. “Mami said it’s so our spirits can be protected in case something real bad happens. So, ‘cuz of that, I s’pose.”

 _Alright, Copper, I’ll try and work with this. Feel free to strike me down if I get it wrong._ “Right, and that’s good. Your Mami’s soul—spirit, that’s always going to be with you. I don’t even think a God could tear her away from seeing you.”

A gasp leaves her. “Wait—so she’s watchin’ me right now?!”

“Maybe.”

“But you said the extra sugar in my hot chocolate would be a _secret!”_ Ash grins, watching the horror dawn on Jaden’s face. _“Mami must’ve seen all the biscuits under my bed…”_

God, he fucking loves his kid.

“Maybe she turned a blind eye to it—”

Somewhere in the distance, thunder cracks, making the two of them jump, makes Jaden’s hands twist into his shirt and seek shelter. It’s far enough away, but rumbles throughout the city’s veins and fizzles underneath his socked feet.

“Or maybe this is a habit we need to crack.”

The city stills.

Ash narrows his eyes and veers the topic back to Jaden’s initial question. “Either way, you pray so you have hope. So that you can… can figure out what it is you want. Right?”

Jaden nods, tucking her head underneath his neck.

“Jaden, you know that I—you know that I don’t, uh, that I’m not Jewish, right?”

“Mm. Mami said t’me.”

At least she knows. Ash breathes a sigh of relief. “Okay, that’s—good. So, what I say here is… it might be different from what your Mami said. It might, uh, contradict—I mean, it might be opposite to what she said to you about prayers. That doesn’t mean she’s wrong, though. Just different. You can decide for yourself what you agree with more. Is that alright?”

Jaden takes a moment to think, cupping her chin. When she reaches a decision, she nods. “I’ll listen.”

Ash smiles. _Smart kid._

“Alright,” Ash licks his lips and tries to word this right. These’ll stick with Jaden for a while, so he _needs_ to make it count. “Your Mami used to teach you about why you need to _be_ good, right? Not just saying good things.”

“Mm.”

“Well—well in a way, praying is sort of the same thing. You can… you can pray to someone to tell them your worries, or what you want to happen, but…”

Jaden tilts her head, Ash carries on. “Every person has free will. They can make their own choices. It’s up to them if they do good, evil, or—or even nothing at all. So, to pray that nothing bad will happen to you, that removes someone’s free will, even if they’re bad. No God can take free will away. That’s why people may get, uh, tested on faith. To dedicate themselves to something despite the—the promises of something else.”

“Temptation?”

“Yes!” Ash feels sweat prickling at the back of his neck at her inquisitive, plaintive gaze. This is _not_ his forte. “Yes, that’s right.”

Jaden cups her chin again, kicks her legs back and fourth. “Miss. Karen tries to tell me that Hashem—she said _God—_ will save us all, but that isn’t right, is it? Because Mami always said it’s up to us to put hard work into being good. Nobody can save us but us.”

“Your Mami’s always been very smart. Go tell Karen to speak to a manager.” Ash perches with Jaden on the sill, and the stars above, for a moment, drown out the distant flashes of thunder.

Ash smiles down at her, as gently as he can, and brushes Jaden’s bangs out of her eyes. He wonders, for a moment, how blurry he must look to Jaden without her glasses.

“Jaden. Even though it may seem like your prayers aren’t working, it… you can’t control what other people do, or did. Even if they’re bad things that seem unfair. All you can do is make sure that the things you pray about, that’s—that’s what your actions reflect. If you wish for good things, then make sure you do good. It’s not just what you say. It’s what you do.”

“Like how Mami did?”

“Yeah,” Ash says to Jaden. “ _Exactly_ like how your Mami did.”

It’s not startling, that Jaden’s glassy eyes begin to leak, dribbling down her chubby cheeks. Ash wipes under them with a careful hand.

Somewhere in her face, the ghost of Copper smiles back at her daughter.

Ash hopes she can feel it in her blood.

* * *

_“Hello?”_

Eiji kicks his feet up onto his small coffee table—his mother would be throwing a _head-fit_ if she saw him now—and cranes his head back to look at the ceiling. Detroit’s pitch black. “Hey, Rik.”

 _“Eiji?”_ The concern in Kaori’s voice seeps through. “ _It is three in the morning. Are you alright?”_

“Mm. I don’t know.”

She’s quiet, for a moment. “ _Are you having trouble sleeping again?”_

“Yeah.”

Eiji can hear her through the static, flicking the kettle on. Probably perching on the side, too, if her leg will allow her to. They’re two-of-a-kind, really. His foot is fucked for life, her knee is healing only recently. Eiji’s hair is fanned out to his shoulders, rather than tied back in a bun. He wonders if Kaori’s hair is just as unruly, short-cropped and brown compared to his long black waves.

Kaori always did take more after their father.

_“Okay, I have my tea for listening to you. You can talk now.”tomorrow's song_

Eiji can’t help but huff out a laugh at that. “White peach again? What happened to your coffee?”

_“Apparently I have an ‘unhealthy reliance on caffeine due to an ingrained fear of falling unconscious and losing focus due to my past traumas.’ Stupid therapist. What does she know about my problems?”_

“Heinous.”

_“Yes, absolutely. I am happy you agree, Eiji.”_

And yet, Kaori takes the therapist’s advice anyway. So, despite her ire, at least there’s that progress.

Eiji remembers when Kaori fought against the idea of her needing help with every fibre of her being. It resulted in her panicking to the point of calling him every night forgetting who she was, where she was, why her leg was so hurt.

It was the first and only time he considered flying outside of Detroit permanently.

_“Eiji?”_

Eiji is brought back to reality. He opens his mouth but closes it again when the words don’t come even as he tries to squeeze them out of his throat. “Rikki, I’m…”

 _“You do not know how to say it?”_ Eiji can hear her take a sip of her tea. Maybe she can feel it as he nods without words to say. _“That is okay, Eiji. I have nothing to do anyway. I can wait up with you for as long as you need me to.”_

The words never come, no matter how hard Eiji tries.

And yet, the call doesn’t end for another hour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter listening to KPOP at 3AM to drown out his one-night stands (which Nadia absolutely knows about) is a direct reference to one of my favourite BF fics, "The Human Condition" by Amaiyo. ^_^


	4. running in the night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ash and Eiji curl into each other, and the night forces them out of Detroit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title comes from FM-84's "Running in the Night."

Jaden’s sticking some paper cut-out branches to her family tree project—it’s pretty much gone to the shit now, what with him pulling her out of school for the moment and home-schooling her, but it’s something to take her mind off of the institutional racism that pervades this fucking country.

Ash never saved any pictures of Griff past the ones still stuck on the wall back at Jim’s house, so he spies that Jaden’s opting for a crude imitation in crayon, and he’s is running to grab a parcel from the apartment complex mailbox.

Ash is halfway across the hall when the memory begins to play out.

The hallway melts into a humbug New York summer’s night. The lights on the old city link bus flicker as the sun begins to die over the horizon, swallowed up by smoke in the rain; leaving his usual abode to come here always fills him with a tainted joy.

“Where are we going?” Skip asks, kicking his legs back and forth. He’s on the chair in front of Ash, one earphone popped out as he leans against the glass. “None of you would tell me back at the bar.”

“Jeez, I wish you’d stop takin’ him to that place, Ash. He’s too young.” Copper’s voice drones, half-asleep as she rocks a slumbering Jaden back-and-forth in her pushchair. Copper pointedly ignores her little brother sticking his tongue out at her. “You both are.”

“You need someone to watch ‘im, I gotta keep him in my sight as I work. You know that, Cop.” Jaden starts fussing in her seat—Copper’s already exhausted enough, so Ash leans forward and tugs her blanket up. She’s barely two months old now, he himself freshly seventeen.

Seventeen, and a _father_. Who’d’ve fuckin’ thought it?

“I don’t drink anything past a rum-coke, Pen. Don’t get your panties in a twist.” Skip swivels around and grins as soon as Jaden’s eyes blink sleepily at him. “At least there’s _one_ Garcia who don’t nag on me all the time.”

Copper shares a look with Ash. He already knows that means _there’s going to be a lecture for you, later._

She’s not one to mince her words. 

“We’re going to see...” Ash purses his lips, and sighs. “Someone important. I’ll tell you everything when we get there.”

Skip’s inquisitive little pout at his almost endears him. It’s almost like having his own little brother.

(Griffin.)

The bus pulls up at a small neighbourhood, just shy of the Flushing Meadows Corona Park down in Queens. It’s a scruffy neighborhood, green-gated apartment complexes flush against the browning leaves. Just shy is a café across the street; Ash knows that kitchen like the back of his hand. Skip kicks a stone, Copper pushes Jaden in her chair as she slumbers. Ash leads the way, tucking his thumbs into the pockets of his jeans.

“Nice place,” Copper murmurs.

“It does its job,” Ash says back, and the conversation dies as Skip runs into a nearby corner store to grab some chips that, in his own whined words, _Copper never lets him have enough of._ She’s too tired from living in the mother-baby house to care.

(That’s a lie. Copper Garcia cares far too much.

Its what got her killed.)

Ash stops outside of a door. Apartment 4.

The buzz sets off a chain reaction, and soon he’s met with warm hands on his shoulders and a woman who’s now smaller than him smiling too softly at someone who isn’t her own blood. Ash can’t meet her gaze, but she doesn’t let him go despite that.

“Ash,” Jennifer says, breathless, “I’m glad you’re here again.”

“Hey, Jen. Sorry it’s been a while.”

“I know. You’ve had good reason.”

Jennifer Caron was always too good for his bastard of a father. Jennifer was never a mother to him, not really, but she’s kind and warm, and never judges him for his absences. When he ran away as a kid, she was the only one looking for him.

(That’s more than Jim Callenreese ever did.

The second Jennifer found out the extent of Jim’s neglect towards Ash, she’d given him quite the shiner and left.)

And now they’re all crammed into the sitting room of her apartment; Skip’s sitting on the arm of the couch, Copper’s taken up the armchair with Jaden in her arms, and Jennifer’s kneeling down in front of them, cooing over his…

His daughter.

“Oh, what a _sweetie._ She’s got your eyes, Ash.” Jennifer smiles up at Copper with genuine fondness; this meeting is going better than their first, at least. Copper had chewed out Jennifer before realising she _wasn’t_ the shitty parent that abandoned him to the wolves. “Is that where she got her name from?”

“Mm-hm.” Copper bends so that Jennifer can hold Jaden, who cradles her with a fond gasp. There’s still bags underneath Copper’s eyes. “The name just came to me when I watched him with her.”

“I chose her middle name!” Skip pipes up proudly, kicking his legs back-and-forth. “Gave her Mom’s name.”

“Alba,” Copper says, leaning her chin on her hand and smiling as Jennifer begins to gently bounce her knees. “Jaden Alba Garcia. A little jaguar.”

“A beautiful name.”

Jennifer hands Jaden back to Copper, then perches herself up on the breakfast bar stool instead, flattening her skirt. She’s started getting crows feet by her eyes, now. It makes Ash’s heart ache; Jennifer wasted way too many years wasted with that predatory bastard.

(Dawn Peterson was only 21 when she died. She could have had a life. She could have been so much more.

Instead, she died as nothing.

The only ‘achievement’ to her name was—)

“Are you Ash’s mom?”

Ash turns to Skip, who’s got his arms behind his head. Jennifer laughs behind her hand. “Not quite. I used to—see his father. A while ago, now.”

“Oh.” He scrunches up his nose. “So, does that mean you’re _like_ his mom?”

“Well, I—”

“Enough with the interrogation, Skip. You’re not Charlie.” Ash twerks the kid’s ear, who just bats his hand away with a scowl and sticks his tongue out. “Look, I’ll just—show you. Why we’re here.”

Ash meets Jennifer’s gaze. “Is he doing okay?”

 _He?_ Skip mouths to his sister; Copper just shakes her head.

The way Jennifer’s posture wilts, that’s a story with a thousand pages that he never wants to read; he has to study it, inch-by-inch, every coffee stained page, every misplaced word. Even a single error could spell red, and he’s got no interest in letting that story have any other ending other than a fair one for he who deserves it.

Jennifer chooses her words carefully. “As well as he can be.”

That’s a sugar-coated code for _fuck up, and Griff’ll die._

(Reaper’s coming, Ash. Run into the rye, maybe it’ll make you crazy before he catches you.)

Jennifer goes into the small backroom, kitted out with different medical hoists. Ash hears the machine crank up, before Jennifer’s unclipping something, and slowly, she wheels him out.

“Wh—Who…?”

Skip’s confusion is lost on Ash as he bends down in front of Jennifer, the wheelchair, and _him._

“Heya, Griff.” For the first time, Ash smiles, and gestures behind him, before resting his chin on his big brother’s knees. “I bought someone to meet you. Skip’s been dragging my ear to the ground with all his talk of being Jaden’s _best uncle,_ so I thought I’d show him some competition.”

Skip’s a loud kid, but even he’s silent the second Ash starts talking. Copper’s boot-clad feet click against the wood, bringing Jaden over to where Griff sits in that wheelchair, slowly blinking at the sky outside this green-gated apartment.

Griffin’s eyes have no fire.

“Nice to see you again, Griffin,” Copper says, passing Jaden to Ash and taking a step back. “She’s been waiting for you.”

Ash adjusts Jaden in his arms; her big eyes stare up at him, then at Griff. She’s barely more than a squirmy bundle of curiousity and developing intellect, but here in Ash’s arms, she’s sunshine.

“Her name’s Jaden, Griff.” Ash tries to keep his voice level; it fails, like usual. “We—ah, we settled on giving her Copper’s last name. It’s better than passing that bastard’s name down to another kid, right, Griff?” Ash even attempts to nudge his brother’s knee. “Might even spare her some of his fuck-ups becoming hereditary traits.”

Griffin blinks, slow and still. Doesn’t react.

In vain, Ash holds Jaden up higher. Griffin looks past her, his gaze like glass. “She shares your birthday, too. June 10th. That’s, ah,” Ash laughs, trying to stop his eyes from glossing over. “That’s why I didn’t come down to see you this time. Sorry ‘bout that. We thought we had another month or so to wait, but she’s impatient.”

Silence sweeps the apartment. One of Griffin’s hands twitch, but that’s it.

“Griff.” Ash blinks fast. Jaden’s hands reach for empty air. “I-I have a kid.”

_Please, say something. More than Dad did. Something. Anything._

Griffin remains silent, and the memory fades back to the apartment hallway.

Ash grabs a parcel from the apartment complex mailbox. Jaden’s been a bit quieter these past few days, since he and Eiji had that fight—and, well, it’s not the first time he’s been given the silent treatment from the people he cares the most about.

(His phone has no new messages.

Ash keeps checking regardless of the growing number of unsaved drafts.)

“Hey, kid, you got a second?” Ash pulls out a chair in front of her and sets the parcel down on the table. Nudges it toward her. “I got you somethin’.”

“Huh? Why?” Jaden puts down her stick of glue and rakes over it with her eyes, binary green. “I didn’t do anythin’ good, though Whyamm’I getting a present?.”

 _You’re always good. I’m the one who fucked your life up for so long by being out of it._ “It’s not a present for being good. It’s something… something that I think could help you out.”

Jaden says nothing as she glances up at him, before pushing aside her project, grabbing the parcel, and ripping away the cheap cardboard with her nails. Some of them are half-chewed. Jaden reaches inside and pulls out a green notebook covered in white rabbits and peaches, complete with a matching pen.

Those big, beady green eyes peer up at him, imploring Ash to give her an answer. “I know you—I know you’ve been having trouble sleeping. With your nightmares,” Ash explains. “I wanted to try and help you.”

Jaden’s mouth drops to a little _o-_ shape, staring up at him with wonder as Ash carries on.

“I know you can’t always tell me what they’re about. I’ve been—reading up on what could help, and they said keeping a dream journal or a diary could…” He trails off, then backpedals. “I know Eiji mentioned writing down your thoughts to you, before, that you seemed to like the idea.”

Jaden folds her arms around the notebook, hugging it to her chest. “Do I gotta tell you what’s in it?”

“No.”

Her head shoots up. “But—”

“Jaden, these are _your_ thoughts. If you wanna let me in, you can. But it’s your choice.”

Ash hesitates, before getting out of the chair and walking around to her side, crouching down, and putting a hand on her head. “I’ve not been the best Dad to you, I know that. I’ve not always known what I’m doing, or how to go about things. But I’m gonna try, okay? I’m going to be better for you, not get so angry all the time. That includes not thinking I always know best.”

She stares at him for a long time. Ash doesn’t dare move; save he shatter this moment’s fragile existence.

“You’re gonna be good?”

“Mm. I’m gonna be a Dad you deserve.”

Jaden’s pudgy little hands begin to shake as Ash leans into her. “I…”

“What is it?”

The notebook clatters to the floor, and she buries her head in her hands. “I never wanted another Dad, never _ever_. I don’t care if you’re good. I don’t care, Pops, I don’t care—”

“Jaden—"

“I don’t _care,_ Pops!” Ash’s eyes widen as she trembles, his hand hovering awkwardly mid-air. Ash is about to say something else when she practically wails, “I just don’t want the monsters to take you like they took Mami! I just got you back! So please, don’t go away _again!”_

And that—

That makes Eiji’s words echo in his head, and blood fills up his brain. _You don’t just exist for yourself. Don’t you see you have value, Ash?_

And of course, of _course_ he knew his life has value, a price put on it since he was a kid. He’s a good shot. He’s Golzine’s former heir. He’s a good fuck. Ash has always known that his life, that his body, had value.

Nobody’s ever told him his _soul_ did. 

But here Jaden is, pleading with him to stay. That she just got him back. Eiji shook the box; Jaden’s blown it wide open, and Ash is pulling Jaden to his chest and hugging her tight like the day he found her, trembling in her dead mother’s closet.

 _I have a kid,_ that’s what Ash told Shorter.

 _I have a kid,_ that’s what he told Griffin.

So, as he holds his kid tight against his beating heart, Ash thinks. Maybe, maybe this is the first time he allows himself to think that, just maybe, _I’m more than just a name on a piece of paper._

_I’m a Dad._

Like it or not, he’s a permanent fixture in this kid’s life. In Jaden’s life.

So maybe it’s time he started _acting_ like it.

* * *

_Mayfly Photography Studios_ is not a big company. Eiji would hesitate to even label it that—it’s more of a hodgepodge of passionate, coffee-dependent visionaries with their sights set behind the lens, and a sad reminder that you need money to buy food.

There’s Eiji, obviously, who co-founded the studio with Ibe (he still thinks Ibe is being liberal with that moniker, but Ibe would accept no less).

Maxine joined a few months later after her _Everyday Heroes_ picture garnered her prominence and she needed the experience.

Todd and Lilo joined roughly at the same time, having an expressed enthusiasm in photographing animals (Lilo herself has… an eclectic little hound).

Rocket’s the last one, joining them only six months ago to this day. He’s friendly enough, though he’s pretty tight-lipped on how he earned his experience in the field, and Eiji has no desire to force him to share the details.

Usually, everyone keeps to their own independent projects, with Ibe overseeing the final edits. However, as of now, the office is abuzz with excitement.

“How the _hell_ did you get us a gig at _Allure Magazine?!”_ Maxine gawks, coffee splashing onto her jeans. “I thought they _never_ hired freelancers or contractors!”

Maxine’s the most hyped for it—they’re clustered around the coffee table with piling to-go cups; this time was Rocket’s run. _Allure’s_ a pretty notoriously-respected fashion magazine—not really up his alley.

Still, Eiji can’t deny the excitement. It’s infectious throughout the office.

“I haven’t chosen _who_ will go on this assignment yet,” Ibe says, laughing behind his coffee cup. “They’re doing two shoots and they need extra assistance on the one here in Detroit. I spoke with one of _Allure’s_ head writers a few months back who recommended us—Eiji, you may remember her? Jessica?”

Eiji opens his mouth before Maxine interjects. “The hot blond?!”

Rocket _sighs._ This is an old topic of conversation. “Maxine, please, can you just turn your bisexual brain off for _one_ second? You’re _married.”_

“And have a healthy enough of a relationship to _appreciate_ other people without being threatened.”

Rocket’s sigh drags on into his hand covering his eyes, whilst Lilo just pats his back. Todd’s been fiddling with his camera with barely any reaction to the antics, and Maxine’s on her seventh latte. Sure, they’re an enigmatic bunch, but Eiji would work with no other ragtag group.

(He’s ignoring the lack of messages on his phone. It’s not the first time he’s had people giving him the silent treatment, and Ash needs time to process.

That’s what he tells his broken heart, anyway.)

The meeting’s over before long, with consideration being given to each of Ibe’s employees—Todd’s on assignment today with Rocket, Lilo’s in the printing room and Maxine’s on editing for the wedding project she had last week, so soon it’s just Ibe and Eiji left in the break room, when Eiji’s called aside.

It gets confusing when Ibe puts a hand on his shoulder. “Ibe-san?”

“Does Kao-chan still live down in Miami Beach, Ei-chan?”

The question takes him by surprise. It’s no surprise that Kaori hasn’t been in contact with Ibe since breaking up with Akira almost half a year ago. Too raw, maybe. “I—yes, she does.”

“I thought so.” He glances over his shoulder, then back to Eiji. “Jessica requested for you specifically to help with a shoot of hers down in Miami Beach next month.”

Eiji’s jaw _drops._ “By _name?_ ”

“She liked your portfolio. She said it had the tender feeling she was looking for.”

There’s a heavyset blush that blooms on Eiji’s face, blinking down at the floor. _Now_ he feels bad for all the times he’s internally scowled when she called him _dear_ and _Ibe’s kid._ “I… I’d love to. How long will it be for?”

“Ideally, she wants you up there for two months.” Ibe hums to himself. “Now, I understand you have other commitments here in Detroit—it’s hard enough to be in a relationship with anyone, let alone a person with a child—”

Eiji feels his world upturn, and his mouth dries. “R-Relationship?”

“—so, Jessica said she can be flexible on how long you’re able to spend up there.” Ibe smiles, completely oblivious to Eiji’s imploding reality. I just thought it might be a good opportunity for you to spend some time with your sister, get out of Detroit for a bit, and refresh yourself. Does that sound fair?”

“I-It’s fine, but Ibe-san, you’ve got it wrong, I’m not—”

“Great!” Ibe claps him on the shoulder. “I’ll let her know you’re up for the assignment. I know she’s looking forward to the change in scenery with her son—there’s been trouble with her husband. Something about being stopped a few times.” Ibe waves it off, chuckling to himself. “Knowing Max, he’s punched another dirty cop.”

“I-I’m sure he had a good reason…”

“Perhaps.” Ibe strokes his beard, his grin quirked. “Maybe you could invite that boyfriend of yours and his kid, too? It might be nice for the three of you to have a little vacation.”

 _Boyfriend?!_ “I-I’m grateful, but it’s not like that—!”

Mercy comes in the form of Ibe’s phone vibrating, and Ibe looks apologetic as he checks the caller ID. “Ah, sorry Ei-chan, I have to take this.” Ibe gives Eiji another smile, holds up his hand and goes into his office.

Eiji slowly sinks down into his chair, puts his hands together, and bows his head into his knees. His face is swimming in heat, the tips of his ears going pink.

He pictures Ash, in his wind-rushed boyish glory, laughing and lifting Jaden onto his shoulders, with those jade eyes sparkling in the sunlight, with the love for his daughter filling that bright smile. Eiji realises with his hummingbird heart thrumming against his ribcage—

_Oh, no._

_I’m in trouble._

* * *

Snagging four days off in a row wasn’t easy—it took a _lot_ of bartering with Wendy and practically _pleading_ with Del, but Ash finally manages to grab himself a long weekend at the end of the first week of silence with Eiji.

He’s not forced Jaden back into an education routine just yet. Ashamed as he is to admit it, Ash’s been spoiling the little brat, like letting her sleep until three, or letting her snack on cookies to her heart’s content. She’s spent the last few days napping on his lap or writing in her new journal and he hasn’t the heart to tell her to sleep in her own bed.

Overall, she’s… getting there.

But there’re certain conversations that he knows Jaden needs to have with people aside from him. If Copper were here, it’d fall to her.

Ash grew up in a revolving door of abject poverty, and upper-class education with strings attached (ropes on bedframes). He’s seen his friends and enemies alike getting chained up by an unfair judicial system at the age of thirteen.

Kids get scarred by racism. It leaves them confused, ashamed, often insecure about something that they should have _pride_ in. Ash _still_ remembers how much shit Copper had to put up with in _St. Mary’s House_ , or how much Skip looked up to Cain for putting himself through law school after he left his gang life behind.

Seeing Jaden withdraw on herself the past few weeks, without even understanding what went on, it makes Ash doubt in his ability to be the one to talk with her about this. And maybe, right now, it’ll help Jaden to hear those affirming words he tells her by someone who can relate on a more personal level.

“Ah, Ashton?” Del’s cleaning a glass behind the counter when he comes in, Jaden holding his hand. “I didn’t expect to see you here on your day off!”

Ash tucks his bangs back into his beanie and closes the door to the diner behind him. Jaden’s already waving to Del, who returns it with a small smile of her own. “Had some work to do. Was hopin’ I could snag some free WiFi since ours is down.”

“Sure thing, sweetheart. Take a seat—I’ll make you coffee.” And that soft smile for Jaden comes back. “And what about a _big_ chocolate shake for you, Jaden?”

“Sure! With a cherry on ‘top?”

 _“Of course._ What do you take me for?”

The rest of Del’s words become fuzzy as Ash’s shoulders hike up as his breath lodges in his throat, swallows down the familiar taste of bile at the back of his mouth from the name that pushed into the air and slithered its way into his ears and burrowed into his brain.

Jaden’s already pulling herself into a booth, her journal in hand, blissfully ignorant of the fires Ash is trying to put out in his head from the festering infection and Golzine’s standing in front of him and smiling and there’s a bed and _nobody will love you the way I do, Ash, so why do you run from me?_ And—

Calm. Ash borrows Eiji’s technique. 5 seconds to breathe in. 7 seconds to breath out. Rinse and repeat, rinse, and repeat, and…

Huh.

 _Well, whaddya know. It actually works a bit_.

“Pops?”

Ash waves Jaden’s concern off, pats the top of her head. “I’m alright, kid. Just spaced out a bit.”

Jaden doesn’t believe him (he taught her scepticism; he’s proud, and sad) but nods and carries on writing in her journal. Ash takes another breath, and whilst Del’s at the counter, leans on it and beckons her forward.

He’s still a little shaken, but ignores it, ignores it, ignores it.

(He’s gotten good at that over the years.)

“I wasn’t sure you’d come here today,” Delphine murmurs to him, inspecting the quality of the cheap glass before putting it back in the cluster. The way she cleans them, they turn out crystal-quality. Reminds him of Jennifer back in the Cape. “I know you’ve been struggling. Damn schools never make these lessons at home easy.”

Ash’s eyes don’t lift from Jaden. “Yeah.”

“You couldn’t have known what she was hidin’, Ash.”

“It’s my _job_ to know.”

Del lets out a sigh, rubbing her temples. “As stubborn as my boys, you are. Parents aren’t _mind readers,_ yet you still try to take on every problem…”

Ash is quiet as she slides a mug towards Ash, pouring some freshly made coffee for him. It’s up to Ash to adjust it to his tastes, with nearby brown sugar-packets and small sachets of milk waiting for him in a plastic repurposed fry boat.

Instead, he looks up at that picture on the kitchen door, with the two silhouettes of children playing in the rain in the suburbia of a true-blue New York night. There’s a sparrow there, hiding from the rain, on full display with brazen wet feathers.

“Let me take over this conversation, Ash,” Del insists gently, the hand on his arm suddenly warm. Ash bows his head. “There’s some things she needs to learn from her peers.”

_She should have learned this from you, Copper._

“Okay,” and that’s all the permission Del needs as she squeezes his arm. She then grabs the whipped cream bottle and a small container of glazed cherries, tucks it underneath her arm as she scoots across opposite from Jaden.

Outside, Detroit is a humbug; circadian rhythms haven’t quite hit the city pavements, instead it’s a gentle lull into routine. Ash is checking through more of Copper’s files and folders on his phone—he’s figured out that her resume letter is _some_ sort of cypher but cracking it has been another ballgame entirely.

Behind him, words of experience and fighting in a world where the colour of your skin _shouldn’t_ matter but _does_ flows from Del’s lips, absorbed by the innocent ears of his six-year-old daughter.

Ash hasn’t been _blind_ to the role of racism in this melting pot of a country; it’s the bullet in an unarmed back, the knee on a neck of a begging man, the footsteps trailing behind your soul in a store. It’s a phone call away from a media-marked grave, a show of frustration away from a lost job.

America is a dream until it’s a nightmare, and then you’re too entrenched in the romanticism and reality to move.

One day, attitudes like these will begin to shift.

Until then, people like him—born with a privilege that others can never quite grasp—can get off their backsides and make it easier for others to move along paths not yet made into roads.

Jaden holds his hand tighter as they leave the diner.

One foot begins the tentative walk, the other moves slowly forward.

She leaves her milkshake half-finished, cherries half-eaten, perspective forever changed.

* * *

Eiji’s sorting out the fresh vegetables into his fridge when his phone starts to ring. With a small sigh, he pops his head out and opts for tapping the _speaker_ button, before going back to sorting.

“Hello?” Garlic cloves last longer when stored in a dry place, don’t they? This is why he usually buys the garlic _powder…_

_“Are we talking in English again?”_

“Brat.” Eiji rolls his eyes, moving to put the cloves in his cupboard—standing on his toes to do so. This time, he doesn’t swap to Japanese. “It’s a force of habit by now, Kaori.”

“ _Fair enough. What are you doing?”_

“Sorting through groceries. Sorry, you’re going to be hearing me going back and forth for a bit. Some of these may spoil if I leave them out too long.”

 _“How responsible._ ” The hint of amusement in her voice is well-noted, and pointedly ignored. _“I am sorry to be calling you out of the blue—_ ” She’s picked that phrase up from her time in Miami Beach, he’s certain. _“—but Ibe-san, he uh… he just messaged me about you potentially coming down here for a job?”_

Right. The photography job. That conversation where Ibe thought he and Ash were—

Eiji stills for a moment, the flush extending to his ears, until he sharply clears his throat. “Uh, yeah.” He swallows down a squeak. “I’ve been recommended to shoot for a fashion magazine.”

_“And yet you still wear the bird…”_

“I haven’t worn one of those shirts for _years,_ you little brat!” Eiji huffs, closing the vegetable drawer with a little _too_ much force after putting the carrots in there, and begins sorting through some of the meat. “But, yes. They want me to come down in the next… month, I think?”

_“Am I to assume you’re going to want to stay at my place again?”_

Fuck. Eiji winces. “I… was going to get around to asking?”

 _“Honestly…”_ Kaori _sighs,_ and he can picture her hanging her head and looking annoyed. _. “Asking me like the last time you asked? When you did it **as** you were driving up to Miami? You gave me seven hours’ notice, Eiji!”_

“Well, now I’m giving you a month’s!”

There’s a _click_ on the other side of the phone—he can hear as Kaori sets it down. The speakers fill with the sound of static pouring, more clinking, and a satisfied hum. She picks up the phone soon after. “ _Okay. How long will this job last?”_

 _She’s made herself a coffee._ The only explanation for why she hasn’t lost her cool with him. Eiji scratches his head. “I think she said a month or two? I’ve got it all in an email, I’ll forward it to you.”

_“Appreciate it.”_

There’s a heavy beat in the silence, contemplation washing over them both. Eiji guesses she’s sitting in the tiny office at the mechanic workshop she’s employed at doing paperwork—he can hear the employees buzzing in the background, the sound of an engine being tested out. If it’s not coffee she’s living and breathing, it’s gas fumes and oil.

_“Ibe-san tells me Akira is doing well at university.”_

Eiji pulls out a stool. “Mm. She got into her first-choice school.”

_“That’s good.”_

Kaori takes another sip; Eiji’s foot dips onto the floor, his slipper only hanging on from an idle toe.

_“Your Ash, he has not spoken to you yet?”_

The slipper falls off onto the floor. “No. I haven’t.”

_He was never mine anyway._

Eiji can hear Kaori putting her cup down, and she picks up the phone instead. He mirrors her actions. Even if there are no ghosts listening at the walls, this needs to be private. Outside, Detroit turns red, turns orange, turns warm.

_“Have you spoken to your Ash?”_

Eiji could laugh. She makes it sound so simple. “Why would I? He doesn’t want to.”

_“Because you are miserable, Eiji. It is like talking to you after you snapped your ankle all over again. You miss that man, and you miss that little girl.”_

No, no. She’s got it all wrong. Eiji doesn’t miss them in the slightest.

But without having them intruding in on his lacking schedule, without them making him have a life outside of work, he’s _devoid_ of warmth and humour that only that little family can seem to gift him. Does he deserve it? He doesn’t know.

It’s sad, really.

Romantic comedies and falsified talk shows about men marrying adulterous horses just don’t hold a candle to Jaden’s ranting and Ash’s smile.

* * *

“Miss Karen’s like Miss Carolin’.”

Ash looks up from his newspaper, seeing Jaden’s nose stuck in his beat-up copy of _To Kill a Mockingbird._ “Yeah?” He says, reaching for his mug of coffee and taking a sip. “Care to explain?”

“She don’t like Scout learnin’ too quick. Says it’ll hurt her brain t’be smarter.” Jaden scowls at the book, lip curling into a pout as she kicks her legs back and forth. “Miss Karen said t’me that my writin’ was too ‘advanced’,” and that little tidbit comes complete with her laying her book down flat and doing air quotes with her fingers, before picking it back up, “for my age. I don’t get it! I just like big words that make sense.”

The more Ash unravels about _how_ his kid was taught, the more his blood boils. Calming himself before he goes on a murder spree, Ash folds the newspaper and gets out her small workbook. Until he can get her settled elsewhere, he’s going to be teaching her himself.

“Nothin’ wrong with big words,” Ash says, to which Jaden agrees with a very big nod. He flips another page—Jaden’s scrawled in little observations about some kid’s books metaphors. “What do you think of the book?”

Jaden hums, grabbing her pen and beginning to write loopy letters. “I think it says people are real messy when they don’t know things they don’t know.”

Ash stops mid-page and looks up. “Yeah?”

“Mm,” Jaden hums and stops writing, and begins a messy sketch of who he _assumes_ is Scout in her classroom. Jaden carries on explaining. “I was readin’ the second chapter again. 21 is real old, right? I thought it was because it’s a big number. But Scout’s a littler number, and she just wants’ta learn, an’ Miss Carolin’ don’t like that she’s learnin’ faster.”

Jaden pivots the paper on the coffee to get a better angle, brushing aside empty orange peel and her half-finished juice box (suffice to say, unsweetened cranberry never did grow on her—she’s back to apple). There are vague black shapes—torrid sea with eyes—engulfing a little girl sat down, and it looks like those black dots for eyes are crying. Ash is confident that isn’t the ink from her pen leaking.

“Miss Carolin’s actin’ more like a kid who can’t get her own way because she don’t know how to handle somethin’ not common.” Ash’s eyes widen when Jaden summarises, “the teach’ don’t know _people_ like Scout does _._ She just knows _common._ ” 

“Huh. Didja write that down?”

Jaden taps her paper. “Mami taught me never let a good thought leave your brain.”

Despite himself, Ash smiles. “Good tip.” He strokes his scruff of stubble, before grinning at her. “So, should I start calling you ‘Scout’ then, kid?”

Jaden narrows her eyes behind her glasses as she pouts at him. “Does this mean I have to be a ham.”

“I don’t know. Should you?”

Incensed, she just starts waving her hands around in protest. “I can’t be a _ham,_ Pops! I’m _Jewish!”_

“Maybe it’s a turkey ham, then?”

“Wait. That’s _real?_ Uncle Shorter told me that it was just a—a thing in fantasies!”

“Nope.”

Jaden glowers at her book, huffs, and gets back to reading, sitting her stuffed rabbit in her lap. “He _lied_ to me. Stupid Uncle Pineapple.”

Ash’s heart aches for the familiarity of the Chang Dai. Copper used to steal Shorter’s dumplings right off his plate whilst Nadia laughed, whilst Sing and Lao talked shop in the back.

Back when Griff was just a phone call away, instead of in a grave, dead from that bullet in his brain.

…Eiji.

_Yeah. Stupid indeed._

* * *

Seven years is a long time to carry heartbreak, and yet for Eiji, these moments have their own recognisable routine. It’s almost textbook at this stage.

The beginning of the end starts when Ibe walks up to him, sullen and serious, lips pursed, and gestures him toward the office. Says he has a call from someone insistent on speaking to him. Ibe doesn’t let him anywhere near the receiver, but he hears the familiar voice begging to talk to _Eiji_ all the same.

His mother promised not to contact him until he had come to a decision whether or not to speak to her again. That last letter had been the first he’d placed by his bedside, brimming with a fool’s golden hope.

Yet, her words are a sweet, lulling poison. Who wouldn’t trust apologies fed to them by their own mother?

Ibe gives him the rest of the day off after words elude him.

Thus, begins the slow dreg home.

He took the bus this morning, wanting the leisurely walk to the bus stop, wanting time to jot down ideas for personal photography excursions. Eiji had passion this morning, now it’s washing down the drain alongside the rain, the leaves, the dust, the gravel, the dirt from wing-tipped shoes.

Eiji walks past the bus stop. Deadman walking, taking the long road.

By the time he’s walked half-an-hour, the limp’s back. Shouldn’t have been so strenuous on the foot the past few weeks. His own fault.

Circles, circles, every route he’s ever walked comes back to circles. Will he die in Izumo, the same as his father? Lilac cobblestones, the scent of death?

Will Kagura win? Will she get her “daughter” back after all?

Detroit has no Gods, not like Japan. If they do, they’ve never taken kindly to Eiji. Maybe Kaori fared better in Miami. Maybe he would have done better in New York. Maybe, maybe, maybe, _maybe maybe._

An hour. He’s soaked to the bone. Soon they’ll sprout flowers for ghosts, he’s certain of it.

Running isn’t possible with his ankle. Time’s washed down the drains. The searing pain makes him sit down on the sidewalk, near a side-alley, underneath an awning. He’s not even sure where he is right now, not even sure what street differs from the next. America’s a melting pot of culture, his father said. Maybe he’s American now if he can’t tell one from the other?

His mother wants to apologise to him. That’s all Eiii wanted from the start when his heart first broke. But now the stitches have been removed and—

And _what?_

Is he being stupid? There’s an irrational disconnect in what he wants and what he’s ready to accept. Is this his own fault? She’s ready to reach out, didn’t Kaori say to give her time? Kaori said she’d talk to her, but she’s been trying to talk to their mother on his behalf for _seven years._ It’s emotionally-taxed his kid sister, too.

Eiji feels his skin numb from the cold, sitting in the rain like this, clawing his hands through his long hair. Eiji’s glasses hang on his collar, the world blurry as the rain drips down his cheeks.

Half-an-hour, an hour, two. It all bleeds the same, this big concept called time.

Washes away with the rain.

No sound.

Eiji closes his eyes, clutches his phone to his chest so hard he could crack the screen.

A name, a number, it flashes up on the screen when the lightning strikes.

.

.

.

The rain stops, and the light becomes a gentle jade.

Sounds of gentle thumping still hit something, and as Eiji slowly looks up, he sees a green umbrella shielding him. He’s sat on this grubby step, in this side-alley, with the broken awning still letting in the rainwater.

Ash is crouched in front of him, wearing perhaps the softest expression he’s ever seen targeted at him.

Eiji feels his heart stop. “…Ash?”

“Mm,” Ash murmurs back, reaching his hand forward to brush his finger against his hair. Water trickles down his coat-clad arm. “You’re soaked.”

Eiji laughs, a small, pathetic little thing, and breaks away from Ash’s gaze to look down. “It’s…” Eiji sniffs. “A long story.”

“…’s that so.”

Eiji squeezes his eyes shut, already feeling his cheeks begin to heat. Depression’s not a kind thing. It’s fucking aggravating and _embarrassing_ when his body just won’t _listen._ His eyes sting, he’s twenty-five, and he just wants his…

He doesn’t even know anymore.

Something warm drapes over his shoulders, and belatedly, he realises Ash’s coat is dwarfing his frame. He holds onto the collar, head snapping up in surprise, as Ash fixes it up around him. “There we are,” he says tenderly, brushing some of the stray bangs out of Eiji’s eyes. “Better, huh?”

Is it?

“Let’s get you home, okay?” Ash speaks with a tone Eiji doesn’t recognise. It’s warm, and tender, but so, so different compared to how he would talk to Jaden, and…

Eiji tries to stand, but the pain flares up to his knee, and he almost trips. Ash tosses the umbrella and grabs him, holding him steady with his arms, and Eiji feel awash with more guilt, more embarrassment, more—

“Why didn’t you say your foot was hurting?”

Eiji bows his head. His throat feels dry. “It didn’t feel important.”

“Dumbass,” Ash scoffs. “Of course it’s important.” Ash then crouches in front of him, on one knee, back turned. “C’mon,” he urges, head looking at Eiji over his shoulder. “Get on. I’m not making you walk on that foot of yours.”

And just like that, Eiji’s got his arms around Ash’s neck, his legs around Ash’s waist, and that umbrella is lost to the streets of Detroit as Ash carries him back to his car in their line of sight down the street. Jaden sticks her head out of the window, waves at her Dad, before going back inside.

Eiji tightens his arms and leans his head on Ash’s shoulder. “…Don’t want to slip,” he lies.

“Wouldn’t want you to fall,” Ash replies, low and quiet. Eiji can hear the smile in his voice.

Eiji, securely bundled into Ash’s rental car, can’t help but think he already has.

* * *

It’s not as if Ash _meant_ to spend the night at Eiji’s apartment, but one thing lead to another, and now here he is, making him a cup of tea at 8am whilst Jaden is curled up on the pull-out bed that Eiji says he saves for his sister whenever she visits.

Eiji’s apartment is…

It’s different than what he thought it would be. With how the man carts around his camera like a baby, he half-expected Eiji to sleep in a photography studio with a bed tucked in the corner, bit it’s quainter. He’s got hanging dried herbs in the kitchen, little plant boxes with various fauna and flora. There’s a bonsai tree on his coffee table—like Ash has—along with a book and little clippers.

Ash briefly muses if Eiji’s the type to try and style it.

What he _didn’t_ expect was all the weights in the corner, and the tension bar on the doorway in his bedroom. Who would’ve thought Eiji was quite the _jock_ under the cute sweater-clad aesthetic he always has going for him?

(Kind of makes him curious if he has the physique to go with it—no. No, he can’t have those thoughts.

He’s not _them._ )

“Here you go,” Ash says, trying not to let his heart slip out of his throat when he sees Eiji all bundled in his armchair _reaching_ out for the cup. “Ginger, right?”

“Mm,” Eiji hums, taking a sip. “Thank you.”

Eiji’s got this old clock tucked in the corner of his kitchen, kitsch and gaudy, and makes the most obnoxious _tickticktick_ sound. A timebomb’s going to go off, marking how long this silence of theirs is dragging out that even a good night’s sleep can’t battle.

Whatever happened to Eiji yesterday, all Ash knew was the second Eiji’s hoarse cry came through the phone, Ash had swerved his rental car right back around.

“…I’m sorry.”

Ash’s head snaps up, eyes narrowing. “For what?”

Eiji weakly gestures to himself with a wave of his hand. “I just—get like this. Sometimes. It’s stupid. I never meant to trouble you—”

“Hey, _no_ , Eiji.” Ash abandons his spot on the sofa (Jaden curls around the pillow he was resting against—it warms his heart) and crouches in front of Eiji, hand on his arm and shaking his head. “Eiji. None of that. You’ve helped me an’ Jaden plenty, can’t I do the same for you?”

The way Eiji’s eyes well up and he turns his head away in shame makes his gut twist.

Ash’s fingers curl around Eiji’s wrist. “Can’t I?”

Whatever spell Ash casts, whatever magic words he says, it seems to work; the conversation drifts to Eiji’s barren blue bedroom, where he can prop up his foot and recline back, where Ash can perch under the guise of adjusting the heat pack on his ankle. Eiji’s never told him why it aches when it rains, why he limps after carrying him that one time, and Ash has never found it within himself to ask.

They’ve all got ghosts.

“My mother called,” Eiji says, staring out the window.

Ash keeps his hand on Eiji’s arm, fingers crawling down until their hands are intertwined. Eiji doesn’t hold it back, but he doesn’t pull back, either. Maybe that’s just what he needs right now.

“My mother called,” Eiji starts again, and closes his eyes. “And I’d asked her not to.”

Ash’s thumb strokes his knuckles. “She hurt you?” He guesses.

Eiji’s little nod breaks his head.

Ash wonders, briefly, if Eiji’s mother and Jim have conversations about the woes of parenthood. They’re the only ones qualified to speak to each other on that subject. Ash doesn’t care what Eiji’s mother did to him in the past. Even if it was just ignoring a call from Eiji. _Nobody_ hurts Eiji like this and gets away scott-free.

“You say Jaden would be better off hating you—” Eiji’s voice cracks; Ash’s eyes widen. “—but I’ve seen you with her. Depriving her of her last parent because of your own opinions, your feelings—it doesn’t help anyone. It just leaves you feeling _abandoned._ I’ve seen bad parents, Ash, and you _aren’t_ it.”

_And that’s how you feel? How she left you feeling?_

Ash finds himself speechless.

Eiji’s fingers curl around his back until his knuckles turn white. “I’ve—dammit.” Eiji bites his lip, shoulders hiked up. There’s a sheen of tears making his eyes shine as he turns his head back to look at Ash, plaintive and heartbroken. “I’ve _missed_ you, Ash. I didn’t mean to drive you _away—_ ”

“You didn’t!” Ash insists, his other hand covering Eiji’s. “God, Eiji, _never._ I was being a stubborn prat, head stuck up my own ass—”

The watery laugh that draws from Eiji is the most gorgeous sound he’s ever heard.

“—you could never, _ever,_ drive me away.”

The two share a look, before, tentatively, Ash rests his forehead against Eiji’s. It’s almost 9am. The world’s waking up; the working world, then the real world.

But for a moment, for now, please, _please_ let him have this.

It doesn’t have to be forever. Just for now. That would be enough.

“My head wasn’t right, last week,” Ash admits, quietly as Eiji nuzzles against his forehead. Noses brush. “I’ve… I’m working on some issues. Things I carried with me from New York. Probably before that, too. But you were right. About everything. _Thank_ you for that.”

There’re probably words Eiji wants to say. Ash can feel them, pushed out into the air every time Eiji’s breathing gets a little steadier, lightly grazing Ash’s lips. The way Eiji’s fingers curve over Ash’s cheek, the way they flinch as Ash puts his hand over the top, keeping it there, as if magnetically drawn.

Oh, he’s…

He’s beautiful.

“Um, Eiji…?”

Ash turns his head a little and sees a shadow watching him and Eiji by the door. Jaden’s got her hands against the wood, hesitantly peeking around, the blanket still thrown over her shoulders.

Ash isn’t sure how to explain the little fond squeeze in his heart when Eiji _softens,_ then pats the bed next to him. Jaden hesitantly let’s go of the door frame, and slowly putters over, bare feet soft against the carpet. The squeeze turns into an affectionate lurch when Jaden lifts her arms for Eiji to lean over and pick her up, and it threatens to _burst_ when she cuddles into his side.

“Are you all better now, Eiji?” She asks, tucking herself underneath his arm. “Pops said you were all sad. He wanted ‘ta look after ‘ya.”

“Did he now?” Ash just scratches his chin as Eiji wraps his arm around Jaden. “I will be,” Eiji offers her that explanation instead. One thing he never does with Jaden, Ash notices _and_ admires—he never lies. “I just need a bit of time to feel better.”

Jaden seems to accept that, closing her eyes. “Good. Don’t like it when you’re feelin’ all sad.” Her voice muffles into his chest. “You gotta smile. ‘s a good one.”

_You’re right there, kiddo._

Eventually, the world wakes up, as does the need to take Jaden to her supplementary lessons so Ash can run to work. As much, as _much_ as he wants to stay here with Eiji and dote on him, the world doesn’t wait for anyone. Never did much for him.

They’re waiting by the door as Jaden’s in the bathroom. Eiji’s foot is well enough that he insisted on seeing Ash and Jaden off by the door, and that just makes Ash’s poor heart tossed into the washer and spin, spin, spin.

“Look after yourself today, okay?” Ash says, pulling up the throw blanket around Eiji’s shoulders. There’s really no need, artfully draped as it is, but it…

He doesn’t know. But Ash finds he doesn’t care, if Eiji doesn’t mind.

“I will.”

And Eiji, backdrop charged with cozy lighting with the blinds drawn, smiles at him. There’re still bags underneath his eyes, and he’s not _completely_ better. He didn’t want to talk much about his mother, and Ash didn’t press, but—

But he’ll look after himself. Ash trusts that.

“You’ll call if you need anything?”

Eiji nods. Ash’s hands are still on the blanket, and he feels how Eiji curls his little finger around Ash’s. “Mm. Promise.”

“I searched up that rhyme you taught Jaden. Sadists, the lotta ‘ya.” His smile goes a little crooked. “Whaddya teachin’ my kid, Eiji?”

“Guess I’m a bad influence.”

“ _Never._ ”

Eiji stares up at Ash, and there’s a longing in his eyes that Ash can’t quite parse, jawing possibilities in his own head and none expressed verbally; those big, beady eyes make Ash’s heart take fucking flight. He can’t handle this, this… innate protectiveness he has for this man.

So, maybe it’s the end of him when Eiji wraps his arms around Ash’s neck, when the blanket falls to the floor, and he feels Eiji’s breath against his ear, whisper a soft, “ _thank you._ ”

Ash’s arms hover, frozen in place, frigid and back ramrod straight. He’s breathless, wondering what is taking Jaden so long. Ash swallows, wetting his sandpaper throat, as he slowly returns the hug. His fingers trace over the soft cotton shirt Eiji’s bundled up in, twisting into the fabric; his cheek presses against Eiji’s shoulder, eyes wide, cheeks red.

“You’re… welcome.”

A morning breeze sends a chill up Ash’s spine; he pulls back, but they’re still holding onto each other. It takes Jaden coming out of the bathroom, and the urgency of daylight, to part them.

Ash can’t forget that smile and sleepy wave when he leaves Eiji, hesitantly.

* * *

Something begins to unfold, after Ash and Eiji curled into each other.

It’s something that can’t be named, held onto, or even survive for more than a few seconds in this mortal realm of existence. It shapes itself in the reflection of whatever emotion is the strongest between two souls, burning bright; the darkness that lets fire shine bright.

Whatever it is, it draws Eiji back to this man and his child again and again, a magnetic pull, an orbit in of itself. Eiji is more than just _willing_. Eiji isn’t being pulled against his will; he’s _running_ into it.

“Ei-chan?”

Ah—shit. He’s daydreaming again. Eiji clears his throat, pointedly _ignoring_ the way Maxine’s giggling at her desk, and looks at Ibe with a sheepish smile. “Yes?”

Ibe, bless him, doesn’t seem to hold it against Eiji. The workload’s been lessened to just working on their independent website as of late—most likely trying to keep the pressure off until he heads to Miami Beach next month, and whilst his foot gets back up to par. It’s mostly okay, now.

Ibe smiles, pointing toward the door. “You’ve got a visitor.”

“Huh?”

Eiji turns in his seat and feels his heart _lodge_ in his throat and take fucking flight when he sees Ash wave at him from the doorway, glasses strewn on his face and beanie half-on, holding a to-go coffee cup in one hand, a brown paper bag in the other.

Ibe goes back into his office where Jessica’s visiting him again, combing over the finer details of Eiji’s job prospects (and catching up, if her barked laughter is any indication), whilst Eiji absolutely dies inside.

“Ash?! What—” Eiji swallows, _desperately_ wishing he’d chosen something other than the green flannel he’d borrowed from Ash all those months back to wear today!

“Hey, Eiji,” Ash comes in, completely nonchalant, and places the coffee and paper bag on Eiji’s desk. “Am I interrupting? Ibe said this was a good time to come in.”

Ash exchanges pleasant-enough nod with the older man through the glass of the office window, oblivious to how Eiji is fucking dying. _Since when did they start talking?_

Eiji wordlessly shakes his head, internally pleading with himself to stop blushing, to stop raking his gaze over Ash. So, well, so what if tight turtlenecks seem to do things for him? It—there’s _thousands_ of men that could pull it off better.

Honestly.

 _(But only one person you’d want to pull it off of,_ a little voice in his head whispers.

Oh, _fuck you, Eiji Okumura,_ the more logical part of his brain replies _)_

“Eiji?”

There’s a special place in hell for the way Maxine hides a laugh behind her computer screen, Eiji barely, _barely_ suppressing a squeak. “Yes! Now is fine. I just, uh wasn’t expecting you to—you didn’t have work to do today?”

Ash shrugs and _puts his hand on Eiji’s desk and leans down._ “Del gave me today off and I wanted to see you.” Ash nods towards his monitor. “I didn’t know you did website design.”

“It just needs the visuals… um, updating today…” Eiji swallows down another embarrassing squeak by drowning his vocal cords in coffee.

The actual logistics of the website design is something Eiji is _certain_ Ash wouldn’t be interested in on a good day, let alone just after making up. Yet Ash, genuinely intrigued, smiles softly as he looks over the website, even asking him follow-up questions as they share their coffees. All the while Eiji _tries_ to ignore Maxine’s knowing grins, Rocket’s questioning glances, and Lilo’s blatant staring.

Heathens. All of them.

“…anyway, he’s still pretty torn up about her.” Jessica’s voice drowns out the rest of their conversation as she comes out the office with Ibe. “He’s thankful for the information you sent him regardless.”

“Still shocks me his informant was only _twenty-three._ ” Ibe sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “So, that means his article is at a standstill for the moment?”

“And the rest. Altruistic bastard.”

“You married him for it, Jess.”

“Until the reckless inconsideration caused the divorce.” Jessica puts a hand to her head and sighs before her eyes lock onto Eiji and visibly brightens. “Ah, Eiji! Just the man I wanted to see.” Ash shuffles over to make room for Jessica as she approaches. “So, Ibe tells me you’ve accepted the job?”

“A-Ah, yes.” Eiji rubs the back of his neck. “I’m honoured that you asked for me.”

“Psh, don’t be!” Jessica waves off his humbleness with her hand, resting it on her hip. “Take pride in your talents, dear. Ibe’s been recommending you, I wanted to get you before someone else tried to snatch you up!”

“Job?”

Eiji flinches, peering up at Ash with surprise. _Dammit,_ he forgot. “Uh—yeah. Jessica’s hired me on to do a job over in Miami Beach next month.”

There’s a beat of silence before a singsong, _“someone’s in the doghouse…”_ fills the room.

“ _Maxine_ ,” Ibe scolds, as she just puts her hands up and goes back to editing.

“…Oh.”

Eiji’s eyes aren’t the only ones who drift toward Ash and—oh. Oh, _no._

Ash looks like a kicked _puppy._ Yeah, fuck the doghouse. Just take Eiji to a kill-shelter.

“I-It’s not for long!” Eiji suddenly blusters, and somehow the need to justify _leaving_ for so long is now precedent. “I only learned about it last week. I’ll be back at the end of the month, tops! Maybe even before that, depending on how long the shoot is or how long my sister wants me there.”

Ash blinks a few more times, before that wounded puppy look melts back into a charming smirk. _Ass._ “I see.” It’s surprising, then, when Ash frowns and looks at Jessica. “Something wrong, lady?”

“No, it’s just…” Jessica’s cupping her chin and frowning at Ash, tilting her head. “Hm. Have I met you somewhere before, boy?”

Ash tilts his head, raises a brow. “Uh, no? Maybe get your eyes checked, old lady. I’ve never seen you before.”

“ _Old lady,_ huh?” It may be a trick of the light, but Eiji swears he sees Jessica’s eye _twitch._ “Mm, no, I think I’d remember manners as rude as yours, kid.” Jessica leans down to Eiji and pats his back. “You can do better, Eiji.”

Silence sweeps the office. Eiji can feel his _ass_ sweating.

And he absolutely _chokes_ when Ash just wraps his arm around Eiji’s shoulders and grins. “I tell him the same thing all the time, _don’t_ I, dear?”

Ash leaves the office ten minutes later. That inquisitive little look doesn’t leave Jessica, but she seems to be playing it off as mere coincidence—whatever it was—and Eiji is just left red-faced and staring at his monitor. He’s sure Maxine is teasing him. Probably.

**Ash – [14:32]  
** _so, who’s gonna break the news to your coworkers that i didn’t actually land a catch like you?_

Eiji’s fingers are shaking as he grins at his phone, typing his reply.

**Eiji – [14:33]  
** _Are you joking  
The whole reason Jessica is being so flexible is because she thinks I’m co-parenting with you.  
You bought this charade on yourself, Ash. I’m just reaping the benefits._

**Ash – [14:33]  
** _well, guess it can’t be helped, then.  
see you soon, “dear” :P_

* * *

_“Pops! Mail’s ‘ere!”_

“Just a sec— _shit!”_ Ash bumps his head on the top of the cupboard and groans, grabbing the black bags to change in the trashcans over. “They don’t make apartments for fuckin’ tall people, swear to—”

“ _Pops…”_ Jaden warns. _“Swear jar!”_

Ash sighs. “Wallets on the table!”

_“Pops! Mail!”_

“In a minute!”

 _“Ugh! Lazy Pops! Fine, I’ll do it! Lazy Pops, always makin’ me slow in gettin’ ”_ Ash can hear the door open, footsteps intentionally stomping. Their mailbox cubby swings open as Jaden unlocks it, grabbing some of the letters, and dumping them down in a pile by his feet.

Ash sits cross-legged on the floor, and looks at her, unimpressed. “Really, kid?”

Jaden pouts, holding out the tiny package. “I wanted my new pen! You’were takin’ way long!”

Ash brushes her off with a wave of his hand, before ruffling her hair. “Then enjoy your new pen, little brat. I’ve got trash to take out.”

Jaden scrunches up her nose, before batting his hands away, huffing and clambering over on the couch. Her little journal sits in her lap, and she’s excitedly tearing into the package as he takes the trash out to the chute outside.

Ash is sifting through the mail—bills, bills, more bills, the diner’s not gonna be enough to cover this month’s rent, he knows that—as he comes back inside the apartment.

“So? How is it?”

There’s no answer. Ash looks up, and Jaden’s pensive little knotted brow is back.

He sets the mail on the kitchen counter. “Kid?”

“Huh?” Jaden pokes her head up, snapping her journal shut. “Nothin’! Don’t be nosin’ on me!” 

Ash is left bewildered as she stomps to her bedroom and slams the door shut, and he can hear her grabbing her duvet and hiding underneath her bed. He blinks in the wake of her sudden tantrum, and sighs heavily.

Kids never fail to confuse him.

* * *

“Okay, so… why’dya gotta move the camera while I skate? Won’t that just make itall… fuzzy?”

“That’s the idea for the _background,”_ Eiji explains, hopelessly endeared by the way she’s peering at his camera with big eyes, on her tiptoes, and holding onto the picnic table. “But you will still be in focus. It’s called a _panning_ shot.”

Jaden’s lip curls, brows furrowing. “When I spin real fast, my hands don’t go all fuzzy, but the world ‘round me does. ‘s it like that?”

“Yes, exactly! You’re picking this up quickly.” Jaden’s cheeks go red as Eiji pats her head and taps his camera. “This part adjusts something called the _shutterspeed._ You want it fast enough to capture the object, but slow enough so the background will be blurry. It’s all trial-and-error.”

“Like Pops cookin’ coconut chicken curry.”

Eiji snorts behind his hand. “You still aren’t satisfied, huh.”

Jaden shakes head and _sighs_. “ _Pops, sos un boludo…_ ”

It’s probably just idle curiousity, the way Jaden seems so enthused with his photography work, but it’s… honestly endearing to have someone so invested in the mechanics of photography, the little niches, and fiddly parts. Jaden peers over his portfolio with big eyes, points on certain pictures and asks him about the technique, the know-how, wanting to see the world through his craft.

They’re waiting in a local park until Ash finishes his shift at the diner, and Jaden insisted on him taking photographs of her skating with her pink roller skates, _insistent_ that she no longer fell face-first.

(She doesn’t. She falls onto her rear instead, which she assures is _much much_ better.)

Eventually, the conversation drifts to Eiji letting _Jaden_ having a go with his camera—something that obviously shocks her, those big, green eyes widen.

“Wait, _can_ I?!” She exclaims, holding the camera like it was made of pure glass. “Can I really? For _real,_ Eiji?!”

“Go ahead.”

The little squeal that follows is worth the potential headache should the camera be damaged. Luckily, Jaden’s learned a thing or two—she’s pretty careful with it, laying down on the grass and nodding along to his instructions on how to adjust the focus.

Admittedly, Jaden’s picture of a little daisy is overexposed, with light bleaching the corners of the photograph. Yet, the smile on her face as she shows him the result and taps enthusiastically at the tiny display screen?

It makes him want to burn his entire portfolio to make way for the real creative genius.

“I’m gonna make this m’new poster! Can ‘ya print it for me, Eiji?”

Eiji chuckles. He stops himself from taking back the camera when he sees how carefully she’s playing around with some of the settings. “Sure, I can do that.”

Jaden’s playing around with the manual focus, looking through the viewfinder when she starts humming. “Say, Eiji?”

“Mm?”

Her eyes narrow, her pudgy little hands gripping onto the camera tightly and secure. “Pops and Mami were never… y’know. They never—um. They were never _Mommy and Daddy._ They were just—Mami. With Pops sometimes. They never—I never had them, like, livin’ in the same house.”

“Never married, you mean?”

“Yeah!” Jaden puts the camera down. “Mami had—had a few, uh, she liked to call them _special friends,_ but I think she meant boyfriends? One girlfriend, once. Her name was Monica. She was nice.” Jaden purses her lips. “Lotta the parents at my school liked Pops a whole lot.”

“Yeah, I… I’m aware.” He pats her head. “That’s stopped now, hasn’t it?”

“Since Pops yelled at them,” Jaden snickers behind her hand. “Y’don’t need two parents t’gether though, yeah?”

Ah. Well, this is awkward. Eiji parses his own experiences with the “joys” of nuclear families; a dying father and distant mother, a little sister who acted more like a parent than his own mother after the son came out.

…Probably best not to get into that with a kid.

“Some of the best parents are single parents. And some of the best moms and dads are friends, rather than in love.” He rests his hand on his chin. “Families can’t be put into one box, Jaden.”

“Takes a village.”

Eiji’s smile widens. “Smart girl.”

In the background, the sounds of children playing fills the evening air. There are a few kids off the beaten track, skidding along the concrete; the cicadas shriek old songs that humans can’t understands, and the sparrows hunt for their next morsel scraps of food.

“So…” Jaden looks up at Eiji. “You got no kids, right?”

Eiji hums. “I had a puppy before I let my sister look after him.”

“Dogs don’t count!”

 _Oh, Jaden. You sweet, sweet girl._ “Perhaps so.”

Jaden’s roller skates thump against the grass as she kicks her legs back and fourth; green blades unearthed and go flying. There’s this little knotted line in her brow that’s _adorable._ “But no kids. And you… you ain’t married. But you like lookin’ after me a whole lot.”

Eiji’s heart squeezes. “Ash is my friend, and I’m fond of both of you.”

“Hm.”

“Why do you ask all this, Jaden?”

“I…” Jaden goes to respond but shakes her head and backpedals at the last minute. “…Nah. It’s nothin’.”

* * *

“Heh. Thanks for the good time, sweetheart.”

And that’s that. Business over with the sound of retreating footsteps, wing-tipped shoes no match for his scuffed red converse.

It’s a familiar routine, at least. Not even as bad as the bad times.

$150 in crumpled bills stuffed into his pockets. An aching jaw with the taste of salt and sweat washed away as he empties a bottle of water purchased from a corner store. Petrichor filling his head with a hazy expertise.

Then he’ll pick up Jaden from her supplementary maths lessons—there’s local community classes that help struggling kids and math has never _really_ been her forte—and cook her dinner, and she’ll make fun of how weird his voice sounds and how scratchy his throat is, and he’ll laugh and laugh until he can pretend the laughter isn’t struggling sobs he has to swallow just like that salty taste that burns holes into his tongue.

And then Jaden’s asleep in bed, and Ash hangs his head in his hands like he’s having a breakdown, thinking he might just die right here on his coffee-stained cream carpet. It’ll take forever to get the blood out, though, and he won’t saddle Jaden with that debt, so he can’t.

The thing is, diner jobs just don’t pay that well, no matter how much Del tries to help him out.

So, Ash just uses what he knows.

It’s muscle memory to know how to please some sick bastard.

He’s going to die on this carpet. The words were fucked down into his windpipe; he’s choking on them, choking, and gagging and it tastes of salt and sweat and—

**Eiji – [00:43]  
** _I know it’s late, but my sister sent me a picture of my dog on his hind legs begging for food and  
I just  
I needed to share.  
[IM_302.png]_

—Ash’s finger presses the call button.

After one ring, an angel’s voice comes through on the static. _“Ash? Hello?”_

Is this what heaven sounds like? A calming voice whose tenderness is heard even through the static. Did he really die on that cream carpet? This _has_ to be what angels sound like. It has to be.

 _“Ash?_ ” The angel sounds frantic, worried. Ash’s not heard that for a while. _“You’re breathing really heavily—can you hear me? Did something happen?”_

No…

No.

That’s not just any angel.

_Eiji?_

Ash—he doesn’t want Eiji to see him like this!

But if he’s loud, he’ll wake Jaden, so he has to swallow down his sobs and screams and voices and stay quiet, _Aslan_ , _be quiet and maybe, maybe Dino won’t hurt you tonight, maybe Papa will be kind, maybe it’ll just be a punch and he won’t undo his belt and maybe Marvin will be punished not indulged, and maybe, maybe, maybe maybe maybe—_

Ash gasps. The angel’s voice fights back—no, no, it’s Eiji, or—maybe Eiji’s an angel, but he’s speaking again, and his voice is so soft and tender that Ash wants to cry and fall into his embrace.

_“Ash, darling, what is it? What do you need from me?”_

A quivering lip. Crumped up dollar bills in his jean pockets. An aching jaw. The smell of sweat despite scrubbing himself clean with soap and laundry detergent until his skin went raw.

Part of him wants to fling himself from his window and hear every bone crack on the concrete.

But.

Ash whispers, _“help.”_

Time’s an elusive concept when the brain can’t comprehend anything past the kitchen sink, so how much of it passes is a mystery to him. Yet, somehow, when knuckles tap against the door, Ash doesn’t want to die on the cream carpet. Doesn’t want to fling himself out of the window and hear every single bone crack against the sidewalk.

He walks over to the door and flings it open.

There’s sweat on Eiji’s brow, his glasses foggy. He’s breathing heavily. He’s still in his pyjamas with a large NYC hoodie thrown over, one of his shoes unlaced.

It’s 1:14AM. The traffic’s barely making noise outside.

Eiji’s the most beautiful angel Ash has ever seen, and he collapses into his arms.

* * *

It’s way too late to justify a six-year-old being awake, but with the lights in Ash’s apartment flickering on and off because of the storm outside, they’re all sat on the floor with a game of sevens becoming more and more intense.

Jaden woke up screaming from the storm, but now she’s focusing intently on the cards in front of her.

“You’re not half-bad, Eiji,” Ash grins at him over his cards. “But Jaden’s giving you a run for your money.”

“I’d be happy to lose to her, it’s the idea of losing to _you_ that is the real humiliation.”

 _“Sorry, Pops.”_ Jaden hides her giggles behind her fanned-out cards as Ash huffs in faux-offense. She’s kicking her legs up and down in a way that makes Eiji’s heart squeeze in his chest, has Eiji smiling wider than he should for a kid that isn’t _his_.

“Where did you learn to play card games anyway, Jaden?” Ash props up a knee and rests his elbow on it, in an openly casual manner that has Eiji’s eyes trained on him a little too long to be strictly _platonic._ “I know I never taught you. Did Shorter?”

 _Shorter._ That’s a name Ash and Jaden have mentioned a few times. Jaden attached the _uncle_ moniker to him—obviously, someone he trusts. Eiji tucks that away for later.

“No.” Jaden shakes her head. “Mami did when we had that big storm.”

“Oh, the blackout?” Eiji looks to Ash for context as Jaden lays down another card on the floor. “We had a huge thunderstorm a year or so back in New York,” Ash explains. “The whole city was out of power for an entire night.”

“Yeah. Mami taught me then,” Jaden narrows her eyes, before nodding. “Mm, ‘kay, your turn, Pops.”

“Huh? Ah, dammit. I can’t play this round. Pass.” Ash sighs and knocks on the table, signaling Eiji’s turn. “We’ll have to get you onto solitaire next, kid. You’re scarily observant. You’d be great at it.”

“I…” The way Jaden’s dark skin colours just a little as she hides a pleased smile—it has Ash and Eiji sharing a knowing look as Eiji puts another card down. Jaden turns her head away and shrugs, evidently failing at being nonchalant. “…’course I would.”

Despite it, it’s obvious that the kid _adores_ praise from her father, and Ash, he seems…

Better. Not okay, but better.

Eiji decides to chance it again. It’s rare, that they speak about Jaden’s mother, but Jaden clearly yearns to be able to _talk_ about her mother. Eiji sees it in the way Jaden clutches her backpack, that little rabbit toy. How much love she no longer has to pour toward her one parent, now gives to another, guiltily so.

So, he asks her, “what was your mother like, Jaden?”

The rain outside begins to slow, down to a gentle shower. It streaks down the window and catches the light from the street, golden hues, rainy blues. They mix in a way that reminds Eiji of sunset caught on the ocean, and you’re underwater with bubbles surrounding your entire being. Time doesn’t exist here, in this apartment by the water. Jaden’s binary-green eyes stick out in the dark with how they widen in wonder, the same as Ash’s.

They’re made to shine at night, like a cat on the prowl, a bat hanging upside-down.

Jaden is the most precious kid Eiji’s ever known.

“She…” Jaden looks at Ash, who nods at her with an encouraging smile. “Mami was, she was, um…” Jaden puts her cards down and puts a finger to her lips, before snapping her fingers. “A big ol’ neat freak! Her closet was just loadsa cleanin’ stuff!”

Those words are clearly copied from Ash, but Jaden’s adopted them and given them a whole new layer of affection.

She grips her fists as her smile grows, eyes shining with mirth. “And—and, uh, Mami… Mami, she was always real sleepy, but whenever she woke up she’d help me with m’books! She’d read to me all sortsa books, like her Papi used to! And—and,” the more Jaden talks, the more words just spill out of her mouth. “She loved feedin’ all the neighbourhood cats in the mornin’ before I went to school, ‘cuz she said it was like how she met Pops!”

“ _Hey!”_ Ash huffs, folding his arms. “Course she said that.”

 _Yet, there is fondness in your eyes,_ Eiji notes in his mind.

“She never liked quittin’ nothin’. I’d get milk real early and she’d still be workin’. She always used to fold ‘lil notes in my lunches, tellin’ me to be good, to do good, to be kind and do kindness. Not to take… bad stuff, though.” Jaden looks at Ash. “I can’t say what she told me not to take. It’s a bad word.”

“Swear jar?”

Jaden nods with a guilty little grin. 

“You loved her a lot?” Eiji says, gently.

“I _love_ ‘er. She’s my Mami. I…” Jaden swallows, hard, and those green eyes get a glassy coating. “Pops, she… she was your friend, yeah? You miss ‘er, too?”

Oh, _Jaden._

Like a bullet, Ash abandons his cards and moves straight to pull Jaden into a hug. Jaden sniffles, much like she did in Eiji’s lap all those nights ago, the memory of her mother shrouding her reality that she has to grow up with only these memories.

Kagura was like that, once. Eiji remembers it clearly: a caring parent when she thought Eiji was everything she could ever want in a _daughter_. She acted like her child had died when Eiji came out of his shell.

Even said it, verbatim: _“I’m morning my dead child.”_

And the funny thing is, the most _hilarious_ thing of all, it took Kagura seven years to realise that kid never even left her. That daughter was a ghost; _she_ never _existed_ in the first place. There was never anything to mourn; Kagura’s son was finally free to be himself.

It was only the expectations she’d saw die in front of her.

 _Kagura could learn a thing or two about parenting from Copper Garcia,_ Eiji muses bitterly, and the phantom of Takashi Okumura appears in the smoke outside. _Sometimes, good parents die far too early._

* * *

It starts like this.

Ash and Eiji discussing something mundane over Ash’s dinner table. Something about Eiji playfully lecturing Ash over the care of his slowly dying bonsai tree perched on the sill overlooking the river; later, something with Ash teasing Eiji until his cheeks flush a pretty pink, and they’re both smiling down at the floor.

It’s a sight Jaden’s been used to; Ash is certain of that. In turn, he’s become more well-accustomed to her mood-swings. Kids go through them. Sometimes she’ll seem wise beyond her years, yet other times it’s a slap in the face how new the concept of growing up is to her.

But what draws Ash’s attention and Eiji’s horror, is what happens next.

Jaden’s sitting in the corner, fiddling with an old, grease-stained rag. Ash guesses it went stray from when he had to do a quick check-over of the rental’s engine—nothing permanent, but kids play with weird things from time-to-time, right? With how much Shorter used to bring Jaden to his mechanic—Yaz’s—garage in the past, it’s no surprise that maybe she’d pretend to spit-‘n-shine something.

“What’re you doin’ there, kid?” Ash asks, standing up and hooking his thumbs into his pockets. “Got somethin’ there?”

“Cleanin’,” Jaden mumbles.

“Cleaning what—?”

Ash’s breath lodges in his throat when he sees what Jaden’s “cleaning.”

Immediately, his hand goes to his belt—his gun is still strapped there at his side in the holster, the same model of Smith and Wesson revolver he’s had since he was 16. The one Jaden’s holding looks _tiny._ 0.22 Magnum, he’d guess. A North American Mini Revolver. 

Like a bullet, he snatches the gun out of her hand. “Jaden, don’t touch that!” He scolds, down on his knees and frowns at her. Chamber’s empty at least. “These _aren’t_ for playing around with! You could’ve been hurt!”

“I-I know that! I was bein’ careful.” Jaden argues, desperately trying to reach for the gun back—though Ash stands, so she jumps for it instead. “Give it _back,_ Pops! ‘s not yours! Quit stealin’!”

“Where did you get this?” Ash bypasses her protests, her jumps to reach for the gun. “Jaden, _where_ did you get this? I never gave you this—did you steal it from someone?”

“ _You’re_ the stealer, Pops! Give it _back!”_

“No way in _hell._ You’re six years old—”

“Six-and-three-quarters!”

“I don’t fucking care _how_ old you are,” Ash scolds, putting the gun up on the bookshelf. Jaden stomps her foot, indignant, but Ash isn’t swayed. “Now, if you don’t tell me where you got this from—”

“I didn’t steal it! It’s mine!”

“Jaden—"

Tears cluster in her eyes, and what she screams at him stays stuck in his brain. “ _Mami_ gave it to me, Ash! You’re _horrible!”_

The door to her bedroom slams shut, making the leaves from the bonsai tree shiver. Eiji walks up to Ash and puts a hand on his shoulder, but the damage is already done.

But this is the event that sets off the spiral.

So, when Jaden’s next at her supplementary math tutor lessons, Ash rolls up his sleeves and goes into her bedroom. As a rule of respect, he never invaded, let her have her own space. And even now, he’s not going to go through her drawers, her locked boxes, her books.

Jaden felt comfortable enough to _clean_ that revolver in front of him without judgment (though she’s still pouting at him for not letting her have it close by again, he’s explained _why,_ and she seems to understand), so that’s the confidence he’s not going to knock too much.

_But._

_You were always so against me being in her life because of gang affiliations, Copper,_ Ash thinks, spitefully, brows furrowing. _And now our kid’s telling me you gave her a gun and told her how to use it?_

And this?

This warrants further investigation. Because whatever Copper was doing before she died, she was prepared to have even _Jaden_ face trouble for it.

Ash saunters into Jaden’s room—the usual glowing stars stuck to the ceiling, books scattered around with empty biscuit packets and toys thrown about everywhere, clothes neatly tucked into a pile. Mix of his best habits and her mother’s worst. Jaden’s got an open workbook on her tiny plastic desk alongside a few polaroid pictures from a camera Eiji gave her, and it looks like she’s been working on her latest home assignment from Ash with a number chart.

Maths isn’t her forte, but she’s trying. It warms his heart.

What turns it to ice, however, is what he finds as he pulls back Jaden’s bed. He chalked her burrowing underneath there as some sort of comfort ritual, maybe to hide from the monsters underneath her bed, but now that he’s _looking—_

There’s a part where the carpet’s fraying. As he peels it back, one of the panels across the wall looks like it’s been cut out and _hollowed._

 _Must be where Jaden has been storing her little revolver._ Makes him sick to his stomach, and pulling it back—

There’s a scrap of paper. The same number repeated and circled.

  1. 48226\. 48226.



_Where’ve I seen that number before…_

Ash’s mind flashes, and he quickly searches his current location.

  1. It dawns on him instantly—that’s _their apartment’s ZIP code._ Copper gave it to him on a slip of paper a while back, just before all of this went down. But this looks like—this is how he teaches Jaden maths. Puts the numbers down and works through the problem with her, repeat, repeat, repeat.



_Copper always taught Jaden to write a thought down. She must’ve been drilling this number into her._

Ash _darts_ from his room back to his computer. Inputs “48226” into the search box.

Only one comes up. FILE NAME: **RESUME_CC_PGARCIA_JAGBAG48226.dox**

Ash puts his glasses on and breaks it down.

Resume—or _resume?_ Job application or continuing something? CC… Ash frowns, that isn’t bringing anything to mind. Nothing relevant, anyway. Initials, maybe—he’ll have to scour through Copper’s files more, maybe there’s something hidden in there, somewhere. PGARCIA – that’s an obvious one, _Penelope Garcia._

The only reason Copper’s called _Copper_ in the first place is because Shorter gave her copper poisoning in middle-school from cooking with uncoated copper kitchenware. She had free food from Naida for _life_ after that.

But the last part of that file name?

 _That_ grabs his attention.

JAGBAG. That’s—

That’s what Jaden calls her rucksack. That’s what _Copper_ nicknamed it. And coupled with the ZIP code, that can’t just be coincidental. Copper’s _meticulous_ with organisation.

Ash looks back at the document.




4 8 2 2 6.

Five numbers. Five paragraphs. Maybe he’s jumping the gun here, but Copper tried to send _this_ document to his alias, kept in her drafts, and bullets have been both friend and foe to him, so maybe it’s not that far-fetched to assume—

_As you can check from my attached resume, I am experienced in over two years’ worth of experience in the waitressing industry, and I believe the knowledge and skills in being a supervisor in that time have built up during this time make me the perfect candidate for the role._

_In my current role as Supervisor for the Cultural Espresso store, I have been responsible for running day-to-day shifts and scheduling the rotas, as well as ordering and taking in new stock. I am also responsible for training new employees and deciding which ones are appropriate after their probationary period._

_To label myself as confident may be a stretch, however, I am confident that with my experiences as both a waitress in prior establishments as well as my supervisor role, I will be a worthy addition to your already-strong team of employees._

_And, of course, if you so choose to accept me on your team, I believe this culmination of experience will allow me to hit the ground running and contribute to your team as soon as possible with little need for delay._

_I hope to please, and bag, both this opportunity and more success should this extend more than an application. I thank you for your time and consideration and hope to hear back from you soon_.

Ash begins to count.

First paragraph. 4 words along. _Check._

Second paragraph. 8 words along. _The._

Third paragraph. 2 words. _Label._

Fourth, 2 words. _On._

The last paragraph. 6 words. _Bag._

“Check the label on bag? On—” Ash’s eyes widen as it sinks in. “Copper hand-stitched that label. It has Jaden’s name on it.”

It’s ridiculously elaborate, maybe excessively so. It would only be unearthed by people she trusted enough with sensitive information about their daughter. Nobody past him, Shorter, Skip and Jennifer knew about Jaden’s middle name. It’s not even on her birth certificate. The only people who _know_ Ash was the father of Copper’s baby outside of that tight circle were Alex and Jim—though the devil works hard, the rumour mill works harder, and the eye colour is hard to dispute.

But whatever Copper was working on, the reason for Golzine shooting her down in the first place, it had to be _big._ Big enough that she couldn’t tell him about it and trusting the information in scattered documents and hidden away in the labels inside of a children’s backpack.

Ash goes to sink his face into his hands. The next piece of that puzzle lies in whatever is behind the label in Jaden’s backpack—

And those thoughts swerve when he sees something torn up in the wastebasket in Jaden’s bedroom. Intrigued, he pulls it closer, and narrows his eyes.

 _Looks like a photograph._ Did Eiji give her one and she didn’t like it…?

Curiousity gets the better of him—the photograph isn’t especially ripped up into tiny shreds. It doesn’t take long for Ash to piece it back together, and when he does—

His heart freezes.

It’s a bird’s-eye-view shot, took from the scope of a gun. The shot shows Ash and Jaden sat in a park from a week or so back. He was working through maths with her. She was jutting out her lip and declaring she couldn’t do numbers because she was bisexual _,_ and _he_ sighed, and said _“no, I’m bisexual, you’re six.”_

Ash immediately flips the paper over. There’s oddly worded letters and numbers, and he feels his stomach lurch because he _knows_ this cypher. Jaden must’ve hidden this from him, somehow.

**_They know. Get out by XX-XX-XXXX._ **

That’s _today._

Ash shoves his laptop into his rucksack and hits the pavement, practically dives into his rental, and near-crushes the gearshift as his tires scream against the curb.

Dust is left in the wake of his ashes.

* * *

Remember when Eiji thought himself as the universe’s new cosmic plaything? Well, he’s thrown into the fray of those ashy wakes like so:

There’re officers from the local precinct currently speaking to Ibe in his office. Eiji doesn’t recognise them—he tries to steer clear of cops since their failure to de-escalate the situation back in New York City, since the reports on the news have cropped up more and more of their failures.

(He has a vague memory, halcyon days bleeding read—a girl telling a story of a man in a flower shop, shot dead in the doorway. Her haunted eyes.

A little sky.

 _Limitless_.)

“What’s going on?” Eiji asks, setting his messenger bag down and pulling up a chair next to Maxine’s desk, trying not to be obvious in the way he’s eyeing the office. Maxine’s far less subtle in her hawkeyed observations.

“Not sure. The cops just sort of rocked up here twenty minutes ago.” Maxine crosses her fingers and rests her chin on them. “They didn’t have a warrant, I don’t think, so it’s just basic questioning. But I don’t trust them.”

“Who does, these days?” That earns him a little snort from Maxine. “Do you know what they’re talking about?”

“They’re too much trouble to approach without someone getting hurt,” and the certainty in Maxine’s voice makes Eiji hesitate in approaching the office—cemented by the way she holds onto his wrist, fingers curling. “But it’s something to do with the visitor’s log.”

It’s like she’s navigated time over and over again with the way she’s so self-assured, sometimes.

“Max—”

“It’s about your boy.”

Blood trickles down her nose, making his eyes widen. _My boy? Does she mean Ash?_ “Hey, you’re—”

Maxine holds her head, massaging her temples. _“Fuck, it’s weaker now._ ”

“What’s—”

“Hey, close your jaw before flies get in there. That’s hella rude.” Something seems to come to her mind as her eyes widen for a moment. Maxine glares at him, then shoots her gaze back towards Ibe. “Go get me some tissue, will you, Eiji?”

It’s like time itself is pushing Eiji to go to that bathroom—that furious glint in Maxine’s eyes make him slip into the bathroom, and he lingers in there a little longer than he usually would. There was more than just blood dripping from her nose; something trickled in her body language. A sense of urgency, maybe. Distrust she hasn’t felt since Eiji brought up criticism of M. Jefferson’s photography as an example of the exploitation of women in the photography scene.

Eiji’s holding the folded-up tissues in his hand when he hears the door squeak when he sees Ibe slip into the men’s bathroom and puts his hands on Eiji’s shoulders.

“Ibe-san—”

“Eiji, you need to _go.”_

Eiji’s eyes widen in alarm, and he’s imploring—nay, _begging_ Ibe for answers with a plaintive gaze. “Wait, what’s going on? Ibe-san?”

Ibe looks behind him, and keeps his voice hushed. “I can’t say for certain, but I think you should go on your assignment right now. Take Ash with you and get out of the city for a while. I’m sending everyone out for a while. Something’s—not right here.”

“Ibe—”

“Take this.” Ibe pushes a key into his hand and clasps it so tight, Eiji’s afraid his bones are cracking. Ibe’s not been like this since New York. “Just take the company car, go and stay with your sister for a while. I’ll call you when it’s safe to come back, alert Jessica to the situation.”

Outside, there’s a storm brewing in Detroit. There’re flashes of purple lightning against a velvet sky; each crack illuminates the lines of urgency etched into the frown lines on Ibe’s brow. The rain rattles the double-glazed glass; knocking so hard that Eiji swears there are ghosts begging to be let into the building and flood the carpeted floors.

There’s a ghost in Ibe’s face, one he hasn’t worn since Eiji woke up, memories burnt up in New York, scar stitching the remaining hazy fragments together.

“ _Go,”_ Ibe urges, hugging Eiji tight, before pushing him toward the fire escape. “I’ll be in touch.”

* * *

It’s when a bullet grazes Jaden’s shoulder that Ash sees red.

The rental’s a bust, bullets lodged in the tires. They’ve been running on foot haphazardly for the past ten minutes, alleyway after alleyway, ducking through shop awnings.

They’re next to some grocery store, vegetables strewn on the floor when it happens, and Jaden _screams,_ falling over onto her knees.

“Jaden!”

Ash scoops her up with one hand, and his bullet flies into the skull of their assailant. He falls to the floor in a heap, gun spinning on the floor until it touches his heel.

Blood splatters the floor, the sky cracks.

“P-Pops…” Jaden begins shaking as he tears his shirt and wraps the wound. Just a graze. _Just a graze._ Her face pales. “P-Pops, that man, that—I’m sorry—”

“Ssh.” He bundles her up in his jacket and hides her in a nearby crate. “Stay quiet. Don’t make a noise. If anything happens to me, you find Eiji and run as _fast_ as you can.”

One assailant’s bleeding out on the floor.

The other wasn’t too far behind them. Ash glances around and heaves himself up onto a nearby fire escape. Jaden’s concealed enough, binary-green eyes peeking at him from underneath the crate lid.

He won’t be able to spare her the sight of his corpse.

_Copper, please, make her look away._

Seconds grate. Rain falls.

Footfalls are their big giveaway. “Garrett—fuck! What happened?!”

The gargling corpse gives nothing away—Ash drops down onto the other man and claws his fingers into his throat from behind, shin crunching underneath his foot as he trips up.

Ash goes for his gun and— _fuck!_

“Get off!”

His feet are dragged, shirt riding up, gun spinning away. Ash staggers up, holding his arm, kicks the gun out of the man’s hand as he reaches toward his belt.

Always go for the hand. _Always go for the hand._

Fingers hurt way too much—

A rock hurls toward the assault and knocks his glasses off. “Stay away from my Pops!”

What happens next is pure, red instinct.

That bastard _looks_ at his daughter with a predatory opportune sneer, apparently switching targets, and Jaden slinks against the wall with a terrified, haunted look—

Ash’s gun fires two bullets into that bastard’s black heart before the next thought in his head can actualise. He falls into a heap on the floor next to Jaden’s crate, blood mixing with the rain, frothing at the drain.

Jaden holds her backpack to her heart, eyes wide. Ash feels sick to his stomach.

She’s trembling and silent when he picks her up and can’t cling.

…Tyres screech next to the alleyway, and he’s a deer in the headlights of a car, and an angel waves him down.

* * *

Ten hours.

Ten hours driving in complete silence across the middle of Ohio and Indiana, on the fringes of Cincinnati, down the beaten tracks through the Daniel Boone natural forest. Evening stretches into night, Detroit’s stormy clouds naught but a distant memory.

Jaden’s completely out of it by the time Eiji pulls up at an off-track motel in Atlanta. They could drive further, he thinks, but Ash looks as haunted as the ghosts rattling on _Mayfly’s_ windows, so maybe the sleep could do all of them some good.

Ash hasn’t spoken a word to him since he climbed in the car. He’s got nothing but a rucksack with his laptop.

Jaden’s only got that tiny little backpack, her stuffed rabbit, and a new scar on her shoulder. There’s blood on her orange and purple-spotted hoodie. Splatters of it made it onto her grass-stained white-and-yellow-striped leggings.

It’s quiet, in the room. Jaden’s head rests on Eiji’s lap as Ash sits next to him, hand gently carding through his daughter’s hair.

Somehow, she can still sleep soundly.

“If you want to ask,” Ash begins, slowly. “You can. I don’t have the right not to answer.”

 _So needlessly dramatic._ Eiji hums to himself. “Okay. Are you alright?”

Ash’s head snaps up, mouth agape. “I—what?”

“You. Are you okay?”

He can see the way Ash’s jaw opens and closes, just minutely, and Eiji suspects his throat’s gone dry by the way he swallows. “I-I’m no worse for wear.”

“Good.”

More silence sweeps through, like the gentle gales whistling at the cracked windows. Ash’s gun rests on the bedside cabinet, fully loaded, untouched, unused.

Both bags, side-by-side, Eiji’s messenger bag strap encircling them both. There’re pinpricks of light in the night sky, past the clouds; if Eiji squints, he can pretend they’re shooting down to Earth, that the clouds are smoke.

It’s too dark for decent photographs, too clouded for star trails. The murky depths remind him of saving Kaori’s life when he was seven years old, so close to losing her last breath in an unforgiving sea.

Yet it’s a shroud for what’s to come, all the same.

“Back in the alley…” Ash begins, the face staring down at the sleeping face of his child, jade eyes scribbled out by shadow. “You asked me, _how did those men know me?_ ”

In Japan, it’s considered rude not to at least verbally hum when conversation carries. But he dares not voice a single thing right now. This atmosphere is like glass, even a single noise could shatter Ash’s resolve, so Eiji stays _silent._

“I know Jaden’s been asking you why I won’t tell her about what I used to do. She asks me, too.” Ash covers his face, squeezes the bridge of his nose with finger and thumb. “I can’t tell her.”

“Why not?”

There’s a shaky noise whistling through Ash’s nose. “Because I’m a coward. If I tell her what I used to be, it’ll sour her opinion on me even more. She’s scared of losing me but—” His head bows in shame. “I’m even more scared. She’s all I have left now. All I can care for.”

Eiji hesitates, before putting a hand on his arm. Ash flinches… and relaxes.

_When was the last time you had a warm hand comfort you?_

Ash’s mind is a mystery to Eiji. He likens it to a circular stage, with each act behind another red curtain. Each time it’s lifted, it reveals a new side. Eiji’s never been one for theatre, but with Ash, he’ll sit through every single performance until he can go backstage, meet the actor, and listen to his life story straight from word-of-mouth.

“I knew those men…” Ash’s brows furrow. “Because I used to be their boss.”

Eiji’s heart freezes. “What?”

Ash’s shoulders hike up. “New York City. Specifically, gangs.”

Eiji’s left speechless as the words spill from Ash’s lips in a deprecating, hollow laugh. “Bet you didn’t expect that, huh? Gang boss, former prostitute, murderer. You name it, that’s all I was. That’s why Copper told me to stay away, didn’t want to poison my daughter, most likely—"

“ _Don’t say that!”_

Jaden stirs, Eiji backpedals, Ash’s head shoots up in shock.

“I…” Eiji clears his throat, makes his voice go to a quiet whisper. “Don’t say that. I don’t believe Copper thought that of you.”

Ash stares at Eiji, incredulous. Probably likening Eiji to some naïve animal. “I was _eight_ when I first killed a man. I was barely older than her.”

But there’s a steel Eiji feels coating his potential fear, a protective rush over this man, over his daughter, over both of them. It’s been half a year, maybe, since Ash and Jaden bulldozed his life, and nothing anyone says, not even _Ash,_ is going to tarnish the opinion he has on both of them.

“Then you were failed by those who should have protected you. I’m not about to demonise a _child._ ”

“I…”

Ash’s eyes widen, catching the light of falling stars outside this cheap motel room. The stench of nicotine wafts, the sun having bleached the tacky wallpaper a bruising yellow. When Ash’s shoulders start to shake, that’s when Eiji’s arm wraps around his shoulder. Every movement Ash takes after is so hesitant, as he buries is face into the crook of Eiji’s neck, as he squeezes his eyes shut.

Jaden’s curled up in his lap, and Ash is crying into his neck.

“I found her dead. When I took Jaden from there, I had to hide her face from seeing Copper’s body.”

Eiji freezes.

“One bullet to the gut. She’d crawled to the door.” Ash’s teeth grit, grinding against each other. “She was trying to reach Jaden. She called me before—I didn’t reach her in time. I couldn’t save her.”

Ash’s fingers curl into Eiji’s shirt.

“You saved me.”

Ash’s head lifts, blinking at him with big, soft eyes. “What?”

Eiji gently brushes away Ash’s tears. They fall like tiny crystals onto his knee. “You saved me. You saved Jaden. And whatever you think of what happened with Copper, the fact that she called you when she knew she could be killed shows she regained that trust in you to depend on.”

There is probably far more than Ash wants to say. Wants to push from his throat, to tell Eiji in this moment, far removed from time.

But his throat closes up as he finds refuge in Eiji’s neck, and clings to him.

Ash pleads, “just stay for a little while. I don’t need forever. Just now will be enough.”

And Eiji, ever a stubborn bastard, says, “ _forever._ ”

* * *

.

.

.

.

**[One week later]**

There’s a boy, sat in the corner of Del’s diner.

She inherited this place from her mother, almost two decades ago now. _Route 66_ isn’t the luster of 50’s American Diner’s that it used to be, but the menu has kept generational loyalty, and Delphine is a damned good cook. She knows where she’s at in life and has no desire to move forward or back.

But right now, on a Tuesday 5’o’clock, there’s a boy sat in the corner. Rocked up here on a red motorbike, parked up in a shadier part of the lot. Inconspicuous.

Reminds her of Ashton.

Oh, that boy. Shot her a message apologising for ducking out of town and thanking her for everything she’d done for him. She hopes he and that kid of his are alright. Good kids, the pair of them.

“Can I get you anything, boy?” She offers the boy sat in the corner of the bar.

His eyes concealed by a pair of black shades, and he adjusts them when looking her over. Give her a charming, idiotic grin and an appreciative whistle “How’s about your number?”

“That desperate not to pay, huh.”

He shrugs, grin widening. “Well, that, and I wouldn’t regret it.”

Ah, fuck it. He reminds her of her own boys, particularly Trent. She slides him a black coffee. “It burnt a bit anyway,” Del excuses, and she knows he isn’t buying it. “You got a reason to be here, kid? You don’t look like my regulars.”

“Ah, I’m not staying.”

“Oh? Then why are you here?”

The boy—well, maybe the young man would be more appropriate—takes off his hood, and an impressively gaudish purple mohawk unflattens.

He looks at her with a tired, determined smile. “Just looking for a friend of mine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone can figure out all the references to Ibe's photography team, especially Rocket, you win a gold star.
> 
> A note to any of my trans/genderqueer/queer readers:
> 
> Eiji's story is my own, though perhaps more exaggerated in certain aspects and underplayed in others. I know your pain in feeling that passive-acceptance, that sly rejection in the form of silent judgment. I know it's painful, I know it, perhaps, hurts more than overt rejection. I hope that Eiji's self-discovery and worth that he has throughout Mayfly helps you relate to his struggles as much as I channel my own recovery into writing him this way. 
> 
> People say "it gets better". And--I think that's too simplistic. Because there are things that never will. There are things you may never get back. But by being who you are, loving who you love, it can BECOME better than it was. You can find a home, or your current one can grow stronger. You are more than your sexuality or gender, but you are also so beautiful BECAUSE of it. 
> 
> Live your life unashamed. You have nothing to be ashamed of, except in the people who did you dirty. You deserve everything you want. <3


	5. shelter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> calm before the storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title comes from porter robinson's "shelter".

The first time Kaori gets on a plane is after her father gets that call.

She’s hauled up in her father’s garage, fifteen years old, studying the engine of his old Chevrolet as the apple tree in their yard dies with the autumn. Brown leaves scatter at the bay of the garage door, and she’s covered in oil, when she hears her father’s weakened voice from the hallway.

It’s like clockwork now; she crawls to the tiny space next to the shoe cupboard near the front door, the arguments start again.

“…you cannot be traveling internationally right now with your condition!” Kagura—her mother—insists with exasperated fatigue. “Takashi, _listen_ to me, you’ll make yourself sicker! I will go—”

“Do you _really_ think he wants to see _you_ right now after your last argument?” Kaori peers around the corner and sees her mother shrinking in on herself from guilt.

Her face is pale.

“Our son _cried,_ Kagura. Because of _you._ ”

“I…” Kagura folds her arms tight. “I still love—"

“Save it. That’s far too late to say to him now.” There’s so much disgust in his voice, it makes Kaori wince. “I may have had issues with his choices too, but I never made him _cry_ because of it. You never bothered to see how happy basic decency made him.”

Kaori is found out minutes later by her father, of course. Kaori’s never been inconspicuous.

Her father offers her a choice, perhaps the first grown-up one of her life, and three days later, she’s on a plane to New York to visit Eiji in the hospital. Her mother seemed so defeated and mellow when they took their cases out of the house.

She didn’t even beg Kaori to stay. Didn’t look at her once.

“She’ll learn eventually,” her father says to her on the car ride from the airport. His hand lays over hers, but his fingers are so bony now, so withered and pale. “But don’t worry about her now. It’s not for you to fix, my dear.”

_It’s not her I’m worried about, Tou-san._

There’s no time to take in the urban jungle of New York City—they’re ferried from one taxi to the next. Her father speaks much stronger English than Kaori does, or even Eiji, so he handles most of the translations whilst she trails along behind him, like the little kid she feels like she’ll always be.

Izumo is a quiet haven compared to this bustling jungle, with so many people with different agendas and barking into their phones, laughing into the smoggy air.

Kaori feels like she could choke.

They’re going to stay in a hotel for the next month, but that’s okay—sharing a room with her father just takes her back to the days where she would squeeze between him and her mother when nightmares of salty water filled her lungs just before Eiji pulled her out of it. Right now, she sits in the waiting room whilst her father sorts out paperwork for Eiji, talks with Ibe. In adult conversations, she’s on the cusp of pretending she can understand, but she’s young enough that she can feign ignorance.

Kaori’s drowning out the sounds of New York with Ringo Sheena’s vocal velvet, kicking her scuffed sneakers until they squeak against the tiled floors outside of Eiji’s room when a small toy rolls at her feet.

 _Huh?_ Curious, she picks it up—it’s some kind of stuffed rabbit, well-loved and well-worn, with button eyes.

Kaori looks around—and to her surprise, there’s a girl that’s walking away from Eiji’s room, baby strapped to her chest as she looks around for something. The girl is _very_ tall, with flowers in her braids, a hard look to her eyes.

_She’s… really pretty._

“ _Sumimasen!_ ” Kaori calls, cursing internally for the way she stammers in Japanese, before switching to English. “This, um, is yours?”

“Huh?” The girl turns back to Kaori, holding out the stuffed rabbit. She looks down at her bag and seems to curse. “ _This darn thing never stays closed,_ ” Kaori _thinks_ she says that, but honestly the girl with the big hair speaks far too fast for Kaori to understand.

The girl steps closer and—okay, wow, she’s a _lot_ taller than Kaori expected—takes the toy with a hum of thanks.

“This little one would scream down the city if she lost this. Thanks for rescuing it,” the girl says with a smile, holding it up to the baby’s face.

Seeing the child blink these big green eyes that seem to sparkle, popping out against the sterile white hospital, and try and reach for the rabbit, makes her heart _squeeze_. One day, that'll be her.

“You are Eiji’s friend?” Kaori asks, pointing to the door with her thumb. “His room, there.”

“Ah… of sorts. My name is—Alba. You must be family, right?” The girl’s—Alba’s, even—brows crease. “I’m so sorry about his accident. It’s not fair someone like him was caught up in all of that violence. His employer should’ve known better than to send him in without any warning.”

 _Alba?_ Eiji’s not mentioned anyone by that name. But he’s been in New York for such a little amount of time, so maybe it slipped his mind. _She knows Ibe-san, too?_

“Well… all he can do is heal, now. It was not your fault. But his sister, yes, I am. That is right. Kaori,” she greets belatedly, and Alba bows her head. “You were here, seeing how he was?”

“Kinda. I was hoping he could tell me if…” Alba shakes her head. “Well, that doesn’t matter now. You probably wouldn’t know anyway. Everything is… well, I can’t help it now. He’s pretty out of it, resting I think. He could barely tell me anything.”

_Out of it? What did you want to know?_

But before she can ask anything else, Alba puts up her dark red hood, so it covers her hair and her face. She wraps her long scarf around her shoulders and her baby, hidden from the world. “It was nice to meet you, Kaori. Your brother, he’s a good person—take care of him, okay?”

Kaori doesn’t think more of Alba, of her baby with green eyes, of what her business was when her father comes back and ushers her inside of Eiji’s room.

When she prods Eiji after he wakes, his mind is a scrambled mess of events, and it doesn’t seem kind to remind him of the violence he was right in the center of. There’s a scar on his head, and the pins in his ankle mean he can always tell when it’s going to rain before the weather forecast.

Eiji never mentions an _‘Alba’_ again.

And then one day, he’s visiting her in Miami whilst their father rests, whilst Akira naps on her couch—Akira is living with her for university, and their father is visiting for the holidays. It’s hot, far hotter than usual, and Eiji _hates_ hot weather, but he’s sat on the sill with one leg propped up and staring at the Miami sunshine coast.

“You remembered something?”

Eiji nods, still looking out as dawn touches Miami. “Nothing major. Just a moment.”

Kaori puts the wrench down and walks over to him with a tray holding two glasses of water, one of which she passes him. “A moment?”

“It was right after I had that accident, I think.”

Eiji’s eyes always look so vacant when he thinks of New York, swirling the ice around the glass until it begins to melt and leak over the side. A shudder runs up Kaori’s spine to think what could’ve transpired if he’d stayed there. Maybe he would never have left that city alive.

“I remember someone yelling at me to stop. And then I remembered what it was like to be scared for my life.”

“Someone was chasing you?” Kaori’s nose wrinkles—she has to bat away Eiji’s hand when he playfully squishes her nose with his finger. _Ass. The report never said you were chased after the escape from those thugs who cornered you._

“Maybe. I don’t know. All I remember is feeling terrified that my life had met its end.”

Eiji’s mind is still scrambled. But the conversation ends, an unsatisfactory conclusion. Life becomes just a touch more complicated after that.

* * *

“Pops…”

“Yes?

“It’s too _hot._ ”

Ash hasn’t been to Miami in _years._ Golzine took him here, years ago, for a three-day ‘vacation’ to see some shady backwater dealers. Wanted to see his heir, his little _pet_ in the flesh. Golzine _loved_ those fancy ‘dos, able to parade Ash around like some crystal doll, delicate and beautiful and completely transparent, moulded to perfection and only handled by those he deemed worthy.

Fancy clothes leave a bitter taste in his mouth, now.

(Shatter diamonds enough and you get sharp edges, old man.)

He always forgets how fucking _hot_ it is here.

Jaden takes after him, not being able to handle the scorching heat—yes, Ash likes to be warm, but the sun and the _sticky heat_ is the worst. Copper was fucking immune to it, parading around in those flouncy skirts like the sun was her best friend and a burn was just a kiss.

Eiji isn’t faring much better—he’s already down to a tank, and he’s got pants he’s rolled up to the calf, and this _ridiculously_ floppy white sunhat. Ash tries not to stare at a bead of sweat traveling down his bicep.

(God. The things this man does to him.)

Eiji does, however, have the good nature to look _sheepish._ “My sister’s garage has AC. It’ll be better then.”

“She _does_ know we’re coming, right, Eiji?”

“Of _course_ she knows, Ash,” Eiji sounds _exasperated_ as Ash asks again, digging his phone out of his bag. “I sent her a text last night letting her know—she’ll be annoyed at me for certain, but I gave her enough warning for… oh, _shit._ ”

“Swear jar,” Jaden says, sticking her tongue out.

Eiji’s already given her a dollar. “I… the message didn’t send through.”

Ash _groans_ into his hand. “Great. Well, what’s the worst that could happen?”

.

.

.

Here’s an idea: _never ask that and expect the best._

Oh, nothing happens to Ash. He’s actually in the clear for this. But Eiji?

God, _poor Eiji._

Eiji’s younger sister—Kaori? Rikki? He’s heard Eiji call her both names—lives above a mechanic’s, an apartment above the shop and next to the main garage. Eiji told him that she doesn’t own it, but she’s on her way to once she finishes her internship and degree in mechanical engineering.

Yet, there Eiji is, looking like he’s sweating bullets for more than because of Miami’s inane hot weather, as he rings the bell.

 _“I will be there in a moment!”_ A voice calls from behind the—roof, of all places—and the sound of someone sliding down the tiles. _“Please be patient with me!”_

“If she’s broken that platform on the roof again, I swear I’ll—” Eiji shakes his head, and he relaxes at the sound of a dog barking… only to tense once the door in the apartment opens.

A young woman stands in the doorway. She looks like Eiji, a bit—the same flat nose shape, the same thick brows, a little bit of a snaggle-tooth (though Eiji's doesn’t stick out of his bottom lip like that—Eiji always covers it up whenever he laughs. Ash finds it cute.) Her skin _is_ darker, though be that from the Miami sun or naturally, he can’t tell, and her hair is auburn. Almost red, really, when the sun hits it at the right angle, and _very_ short-cropped, sticking out at odd angles underneath a crimson and orange-striped bandanna.

Eiji’s sister also has a black eyepatch with a golden sun embroidered into it.

Huh.

She blinks at the three of them. Jaden hides behind Ash’s leg.

And then, her eye narrows at Eiji.

Eiji’s sister looks at Ash and Jaden with that same expression, holds up a hand, and says, “ _chotto matte kudasai,”_ before unceremoniously and unapologetically _dragging_ Eiji inside by the ear—with a yelp from Eiji—and closing the door.

What follows is a full minute of Eiji’s sister utterly _ranting_ at him, in fast-paced Japanese that Ash can’t hope to understand.

Ash can hear Eiji trying to interject, but she shushes him with a stern _“hush hush hush!”_ and further drags him into the apartment.

Slowly, Ash exchanges a look with Jaden. “You have any idea what they’re saying, kid?”

Jaden purses her lips and snaps her head up to look at Ash, wide-eyed. “She’s sayin’ a _lot_ of bad Japanese words! The ones Eiji says under his breath when somethin’ messes up on his camera!”

_“You are always doing this to me! You are very disorganised, Eiji, dumbass!”_

Oh, he understands _that_ , at least.

Simultaneously, they look back at the door, and Jaden grips his pant leg tighter.

“I-I thought Eiji said she was nice! Not a scary pirate lady!”

Ash snorts at that, just as the ranting stops and the door swings back open.

Eiji’s sister is _smiling_ at them.

She’s perfectly cordial as she ushers them in. “Come in, come in! Please take your shoes off, please put them on the shoe wrack before coming inside, thank you!”

Jaden’s practically a _rock_ as Ash tries to go inside, so he elects to lift her up. She _clings_ to him _._

Well, then.

This should be pleasant.

* * *

It’s not going to be pleasant in the slightest.

Kaori watches her guests behind the stream of white peach tea she pours into three cups. Perhaps it’s rude, but she didn’t ask about their preferences. They’ll take it with honey or not at all—and for Eiji, who hates sweet tea, she’s put in _four_ helpings. Big helpings.

The little girl (Kaori realises she never did get her name on the calls with Eiji) seems to warm to Buddy almost immediately, asleep on the couch and rolled on his back—that’s the last time she feeds him so many beef trimmings.

The blond man—this _Ash_ person _—_ stays close to the little girl’s side, vigilant, wary. Eiji’s ass practically sweats as he sits on the arm of the chair. _Good._

“So, Eiji,” Kaori begins, putting a tray of mugs and a pot of tea down onto the coffee table. “You are here early for what reason? You said that Miss. Randy called you in early?”

The reasons they give are trite. Eiji tries to reason that Jessica Randy called him for the photography job early at the recommendation of Ibe, and Ash is a colleague of his.

She could have _almost_ fallen for that, considering this blond American sitting on her couch has the Eurocentric _looks_ for a magazine cover, but the way he smiles and enthusiastically talks about the benefits of modeling?

It’s _fake._

He knows enough about Eiji’s industry, but she’s not buying _any_ of it. There’re bandages on that little girl’s shoulder. Ibe hasn’t been answering any of her calls, and Jessica hasn’t made any notice to her.

She puts her cup of tea down. “Right. You, and you, out in the hallway. _Now._ ”

Kaori ushers both Eiji and Ash, away from the prying ears of the little girl and closes the door, folding her arms wearing a _scowl._ “Would you both like to explain your reasons over with me once more, minus all of the deceit?”

“Rik—”

“Do not _‘Rik’_ me, Okumura Eiji!” Kaori’s hushed voice borders on a hiss. “Do you think I do not talk to Ibe-san? Or Miss. Randy? I am well aware of your schedule for this contract! Why are you lying to me?”

“Look, _Kaori,_ ” and her gaze is pointed toward the blond American trying to placate her with a smile she _knows_ is well-worn and false. “I had an urgent work meeting here too. Eiji and I are friends, he offered to give me a ride here considering my car is in the shop.”

Kaori looks between them and narrows her eyes. “You are even worse than Eiji.”

 _That_ seems to shake the American. “Pardon?”

“At lying. You are far worse than Eiji. You think I do not see these fake smiles you are using to try and win me over?”

This Ash seems stunned for words before he just rolls his eyes. “Eiji, look—I appreciate everything you’ve done, but this isn’t going to work. Jaden and I will just—”

“Oh _no_ you don’t,” Kaori interjects before anyone else can say anything. “Nobody is going to leave until I get some answers. You are acting _weird,_ both of you, and if you have dragged my brother into something dangerous—”

“Kaori,” Eiji’s voice goes low. “Don’t be so accusatory.”

“Perhaps I would _not_ be if I knew what the _hell_ was going on here!” And Kaori feels her face getting hotter, her stomach getting tighter, a breath away from yelling when—

“Um.”

This _Ash_ is the first to turn his head in a panic at the tiny little voice, followed by Eiji, and last, Kaori does so too.

Framed in the light from the doorway is a shadow of a doubt, the same little girl is hanging her head and playing with her hands. Kaori isn’t sure if she’s looking at Ash’s daughter or a phantom of a girl she’s tried hard to pretend never existed, but it startles everyone enough that the little girl— _Jaden—_ starts to speak.

“Please don’t get angry at my Pops ‘n Eiji. They’re just tryna’ keep me safe.”

Ash is immediately at her side, hand on her shoulder. “Hey, we’re just talking, kid. You’ve not done anything wrong.”

“But you ain’t tellin’ her the truth, Pops!” Jaden brushes her father’s hand off of her shoulder and clenches her fists down by her hips. “An’—an’ I heard you gettin’ all upset because _Mami_ didn’t tell you the truth, so why are we not telling Kaori what happened? You told me not to lie!

“Jaden—"

“Why is it bad for me but good for you?”

Kaori’s heard of plenty of bad parents whilst volunteering as part of the _Big Brother/Sister_ program. She’s heard of kids who think it’s normal to punch a guy’s teeth out if he looks at you the wrong way, or who are cavalier at looking after four of their siblings at the age of fifteen despite the truckload of mental trauma the burden of parentification causes them.

Kaori has met all sorts of kids, messed up, needing a chance for the stars in their eyes to brighten up again.

The way Ash is with his? Not one of them. She can give him that, at least, because this girl’s eyes are on _fire._

She knows right from wrong and she’s classing her own father in it, and he has the humility to back down with a resigned sigh. “It isn’t good for me,” Ash admits, and sighs. “It’s just easier.”

“Don’t need easy—”

“—just need possible.”

Jaden stamps her foot and nods, folding her arms. “We need to be tellin’ her the truth.”

Ash looks at his daughter, before relenting. “Yeah. We do.”

 _Finally._ Kaori gets down to her knees, to be at eye-level with this little spitfire of a girl, and her anger simmers down to a gentle warmth. That can be directed at scrapping an old car. Yelling at a shitty client. Practicing bojustu on the outside flagpole. There’re always redirections.

For now, she needs patience.

“Let us try this again. You told me that they are trying to keep you from harm? Eiji and your father?” Jaden copies her, getting onto her knees. Ash is sat on the floor with his back against the wall, and Eiji is right next to him, sat down and hugging his knees.

“Right.”

It takes some time to parse the information, to piece it all into a cohesive narrative. Sometimes, Ash will cut Jaden or Eiji off, shake his head. Something far too painful, she reasons, or maybe trying to stop Kaori from nosing in on details she’s not allowed to hear.

Eiji always described this Ash person as quiet, guarded, but kind-hearted. Kaori has yet to see someone worthy of trust.

So, they’re being… apprehended. Bad people hurt Jaden’s mother. Ash has been trying to keep her safe, and Eiji loves them both enough to put himself as a guard. They weren’t trying to impose, just to hunker down in her shop for a few days until Ash could sort himself out.

Miami was just—a shotgun decision.

Kaori, on her knees, sees the way Jaden tries to stay strong.

“Eiji he—he said you were good. They were just tryna keep me _safe._ Don’t be mad at ‘em, just… please.” Jaden sniffs because she’s just a _little girl._ “Please.”

There’s a single beat.

“Right. Give me a moment.”

Eiji blinks, bewildered as Kaori stands up and moves out of the hallway. “Kaori, what are you doing?”

Mind already made up, Kaori marches over to her spare little room, and promptly kicks out the seven boxes she’d shoved in there for storage. It brings a smile to her face to hear Eiji yelp and jump out of the way of a wayward tire.

Kaori then dusts off the bed and the old sheets, pulls out some spare blankets, and forces the window open, and keeps it so with a large dictionary she never uses.

“Renovating,” she says, dusting off her hands.

Eiji pokes his head around the doorframe. “You’re renovating because…?”

“I am not heartless, Eiji. You know this.” Kaori looks over her shoulder as she lays out a clean sheet. “There is a scared little girl who needs shelter. You should have just _said_ so.”

Eiji, at least, has the decency to look guilty. “I know, it’s just…”

“We can talk about it later. You all need rest.”

Jaden and Ash follow suit, and the little girl’s green eyes _bug._ “So that means we can stay?!”

“As long as you pay for your own groceries and help out with utilities and my shop deliveries, then yes, you may.” Kaori raises a brow toward Ash. “You can do this, yes? It is not so bad of an arrangement for you all.”

“Better than most.”

 _Hm._ She’ll take that at face value. Eiji gives her a thankful smile, Jaden shyly retreats behind Eiji’s leg.

“Why don’t we get your backpack from the car, Jaden?” Eiji suggests gently. “I think I have some of your things from the last trip we took with your rollerskates, too.”

That’s an out if she ever saw one. Jaden must be feeling very overwhelmed—Kaori can’t blame her. So, when Jaden and Eiji retreat, she leans against the doorframe and glowers at Ash.

“Do not think I trust you yet, Ash.”

“I figured that’d be the case. I don’t blame you. You’ve got cause to—”

“Do _not_ use that humble act with me. It does not suit you.” Her eyes meet his, and Kaori feels herself bristling when he has a small quirk of a _smile._ He’s _amused._ “I know you ignored my brother for _too long_ after you fought with him. It broke his _heart._ ”

To her surprise, Ash’s face _falls._ Shock, hurt, she’s not sure, she can’t get a good _read_ on this one. “Yeah,” he says, folding his arms as Kaori’s own fall to her side. “I know. I was—going through shit. No excuse.”

“No, it was not an excuse for it. There are a lot of things I do not tolerate being harmed. My brother’s heart is at the top of that list. My brother’s heart is a good one, and it does not deserve to be hurt ever again.”

“This about your guys’ mom?”

Kaori’s eyes widen. “He told you?”

“Parts. Not everything—not the reason why.” Ash pauses, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “I know they don’t speak to each other, that she tried before he was ready.”

Kaori blinks, stunned. Outside of Ibe, Eiji’s never even told people he _had_ a problem with their mother.

Still, she shakes it off moments later, and sighs. The earlier coldness is gone, replaced with… something else. “It is not the only reason, but you would be correct. Forgive me, Ash, but _you_ also broke his heart.”

“…I know.”

“Yet my brother cares for both you and your daughter. I will not turn a child in need away. And Eiji clearly trusts you.” A beat. She reconsiders her stance from earlier and rubs her arm. “Give me some time to get used to you. I—want to get to know you, too.” She frowns. “And for you to get to know me.”

Ash seems to be mulling his options over in his head, before he just nods at her—once, decisive—and passes her without another word to go tend to his daughter.

The air seems pretty awkward after that.

* * *

Ash sets up shop in the spare room Kaori’s fixed up for him and Jaden. Ash practically lived out of a shoebox in the days drifting from Golzine’s to gang life, so hauling his ass up in a tiny former office space is luxury compared to those dark days.

There’s the time Ash has to spend time fixing everything else up, of course. Despite the few hiccups when easing into Detroit regarding looking after another human full-time (as well as the anorexia making a comeback, that’s always fun), there’s a _reason_ he didn’t get caught for over half a year.

There’s a lot someone with half a brain can do with a laptop, half a brain, and a little bit of spyware whilst a Corsican don abuses the hell out of you.

They’ve been in Miami for about a week now; Ash has had more luck winning over the dog than Eiji’s sister, but that suits him just fine. He’s not here to make friends. Besides, Kaori treats Jaden well enough, is reasonably distrustful of him, and Eiji’s stopped that panicked look in his eye whenever she glares his way.

This isn’t going to be permanent, but it’s as good as he’s going to get right now.

Initially, he was going to lay low with Jaden for a few years until Dino’s off his scent, but that’s no longer an option. Not now that he knows Copper may have _instigated_ what happened to her.

No. Now it’s a race to weed out those who have beef with him, bring them down in their own slaughterhouse. If those photographs Jaden hid from him are anything to go by, they’ve got someone _good_ tracking him down, someone courteous enough to send a warning beforehand.

(God, he hopes it isn’t _him._ )

“Eiji, _mou—_ ” Ash looks up from the glare of his laptop to see Kaori, hands on her hips, frowning at him over the stove. “You have made this dish so many times over! Yet you are still forgetting to add the egg to it? You know the potatoes taste very good when they are added after the mashing!”

“Yes, _Kaa-san._ ” Eiji waves her off with his hand, little bits of sauce going everywhere with the spoon. _“_ Quit backseat cooking, I know what I’m doing.”

Kaori huffs, and she juts her lip out the same way Eiji does, before grumbling something under her breath in Japanese.

“ _Language._ ”

Kaori has the decency to flush when she turns her head to see Jaden resting her elbows on the countertop, tippy-toed on a stool she’s pilfered until she blinks. “Wait, she cannot understand Japanese.”

“I can _too!_ And my name is _Jaden!”_

“Do you understand what I just said then, Jaden?”

“ _Duh._ Eiji says that all the time whenever he can’t picture a bird right. I know it’s a bad word.”

That makes Ash look up from his laptop again. Eiji, like his sister, has the decency to go bright red—

Oh.

Ash looks back down at his computer, sees that the task is complete. Hacking isn’t exactly as glamorous and cool as they make it out to be in the movies—it’s _boring,_ most of the time. It’s relatively easy from here to steer Eiji’s license plate out of suspicion, fog up the details of where he’s gone in the past week. Ash keeps an eye on local police radio transmissions too, nothing suggests anything out of the ordinary.

But the quiet is the worst time to get comfortable. And Ash remembers that message hidden in Copper’s resume.

_Check the label on bag._

Thing is, hidden behind the hand-stitched label in Jaden’s rucksack was a USB drive, but _everything_ is encrypted. It’s going to take a while to unlock all the files on this—Copper was nothing if not vigilant, but even this type of sophistication would’ve been _beyond_ her.

Not quite FBI levels—fuck no, if she were capable of that she would have jetted off somewhere far from his bullshit, he can assure himself of that, at least—but it’s foggy enough that it’s going to take time to crack, especially with such limited resources and trying to be extra cautious.

 _What the hell were you doing before you died, Copper?_ Ash thinks to himself, almost spitefully. _If it was this big you had to arm our daughter, you should’ve come to me. I could’ve done… something._

The idea she didn’t trust him enough is expected. But then Eiji said if Copper _really_ didn’t trust him, she wouldn’t have called him to take care of their kid just before she died.

It’s—they’re both so fucking weird.

He can’t wrap his head around it.

Jaden’s happily sampling some of the finished dinner, Eiji handing her the spoon to do so, and he tries to ignore Kaori’s prickly gaze toward him. So far, Ash hasn’t cracked much on this USB, save that he knows all of the files are probably going to need decoding, too.

“Ash?”

Oh. Eiji’s right in front of him. He closes the laptop. “Yeah?”

“We’re about to have dinner.” Eiji hands him a bowl and sits next to him. The way his voice is when talking to Ash, so fucking _gentle,_ it’s… still so weird. “You’ve been working for a while, you should eat.”

A gentle heat covers his cheeks. “…Right.”

Well, the files’ll take a while to decode anyway. Ash figures he’s at least got a little time to eat.

* * *

“Alright, what about _these?”_

“Mm… nah. Don’t like ‘em.”

“You _just_ said you did!”

“And now I don’t like ‘em.”

Kaori sees Ash throw his hands up and sinks back onto the couch, Jaden half-crouched over the arm and kicking her bare feet against the side. Apparently, when they left Detroit, it had been by the skin of their teeth, and Jaden’s been wearing the emergency clothes Ash had her pack in a spare gym bag he grabbed just before leaving.

But like all kids, Jaden’s made a mess of all of them, and it’s not even been a week and a half: from paint to food, from mud to grass stains. Apparently, Ash caught her sneaking around Kaori’s mechanic shop; she can add grease to the stains, too. So, now they’re ordering new clothes for Jaden, but like all kids, she’s _picky._

“Okay, what about _this_ hoodie?”

Jaden hums and clicks her tongue. “Nah. Too plain.”

“Too plain—it has _bats_ on it! You like bats!”

“Yeah, but it’s black ‘n white. I want it yellow ‘n pink. And with spots. ‘n the bats should be _holdin’_ bats.”

Eiji snorts under his breath, having taken up the mantle for making breakfast. He seems to be doing alright on the sofa-bed, all things considered, and Kaori… sees fondness in his eyes, like she hasn’t noticed before. For that little girl, yes, but also for Ash.

“It is too early for so much talk,” Kaori groans, swiping Eiji’s mug of coffee and downing it before he can get a word in. “Hush. My apartment, my coffee. You know me better than this.”

“I do,” Eiji relents, pouring her another mug—and himself one for good measure. Good, he’s learning. “Why are you so tired, anyway? You’re usually better at this time.”

“ _Usually,_ ” she groans, massaging her temples. “You do not have some infernal cockroach of a warehouse company trying to ruin a deal you have had with a smaller company for two years breathing down your throat—”

“Neck.”

“Hush.” She shakes her head again. “I do not need some gigantic warehouse company offering me deals every five seconds trying to buy me out! I am happy with it already! Apparently, this company is _very well recommended in New York_ and _recently got cleared after pending investigation._ I do not care! That police officer on the news is probably bought off anyway. Everstun or… something, I do not care! Just let me _sleep!_ ”

Eiji pats her on the head, and Kaori rolls her eyes. She looks back at Jaden and raises an eyebrow. “She certainly has an… eclectic fashion sense,” Kaori notes, leaning on the counter and swiping an apple. It’s too early for work yet; she’s quite happy letting the overalls stay tied around her waist with a baggy shirt, but Eiji’s _always_ been an early riser, even worse for getting dressed like he’s about to take on the world. “If she were not adorable, it would be an eyesore.”

“Apparently it’s Ash’s best friend’s influence, there.” Eiji shrugs, hiding another laugh behind his hand, Kaori cutting off a slice and passing it to a grateful Buddy, licking at her feet. “She used to have a polka-dotted tutu.”

 _You sound like Tou-san._ “Really? I am surprised you were not an influence with _The Bird._ ”

Vindication is her rallying cry when Eiji flushes and cries out over the television noised droning on; “I haven’t worn that for _years!_ Shut up, you brat! _”_

“Bird?” Jaden asks as she goes up on her tiptoes, peering over the counter—Ash switches off the television as it talks about the latest donation given by some Kippard guy and his wife. Kaori never cared much for politics beyond ‘don’t kill me’. “What bird, Eiji?”

Ash’s looking over his shoulder at them now too, and Kaori feels an evil, _evil_ grin split her lips.

“When Eiji was younger,” and she puts her hand on Eiji’s face as he tries to intervene, protests unheard and muffled, “he used to be very obsessed with this mascot bird we have back in Japan.” She gasps, puts a finger to her chin. “And now to my memory, I believe I have several of his old clothes here! I was looking to donate them, but I worry so that they do not accept trash.”

Eiji _glares,_ ears red. “I hate you. You’re a bad person.”

“I love you too, _onii-san._ ”

Much to Kaori’s _delight_ (and Eiji’s chagrin, he’s hidden in the kitchen preparing breakfast) she _does_ find several tied-up bags of their old clothes up in her attic; it’s mostly clothes from when she and Eiji were in their teenaged years, but some of them may fit Jaden yet, and there’s a specific _box_ full of clothes simply labeled, _The Bird._

“So,” Ash asks, leaning near Eiji. “How bad _is_ this bird?”

Eiji flushes again, much to Kaori’s internal glee. “Oh, come on—I was a teenager! We all have bad phases!”

“Except you _do_ have that weirdass keychain you’re weirdly protective of, is it the same bird or…”

“Oh, go choke on your own d—”

Kaori steers Jaden away from _that_ insult, and instead watches as the girl tears into the bag, holds up a _particularly_ gaudy red-and-green Nori2 sweater with _ridiculous_ pompoms on the drawstring tassels, emblazoned with the bird both front and back, and—

And Jaden’s eyes _sparkle with mirth._

“Pops…” She snaps her head to look at Ash. “I want _everythin’._ ”

Oh, _no._

When Jaden trots around later wearing that same sweater, green and yellow-spotted leggings, an orange sweater-vest with skull buttons, bright-pink Nori2 legwarmers, Kaori’s old star-clips slid into her fluffy black hair, fluffy green socks, and those limited edition Nori2 croccs Eiji somehow managed to hassle from an online auction when he was eighteen…

Kaori’s smugness freezes.

_What have I done._

* * *

The night’s dragging on with these files.

He’s managed to unlock half of them, but there’s no doubt of more cyphers, or codes, or… something. Probably won’t be as easy as checking the file name for a random number and an inside joke about what your kid calls their bag, but he’s worked with less and a lot more.

This time, it’s recipes. Copper’s recipes, ones she used to make Jaden given how much the kid talks about it. Girl was always good at cooking, passed it down to Jaden.

Ash swears she was immune to the heat, though, always touching empanadas fresh-out-the-oven without flinching, or barbequed skewered chicken even with the smoke curling around her fingers.

…Huh.

Ash takes a closer look at some of the pages. If Copper’s last little stunt was anything, then—

He begins to count the numbers in the file name, but this one is longer. It makes no sense when he does the _words,_ so he tries something else—the individual letters. Several words begin to crop up.

 _Holstock. Green._ He doesn’t recognise those two. Well, not entirely. The former, that rings a bell or two, and not the friendly church kind. Blanca always taught him to retain the information you overhear. (Kind of hard to always do that when tethered to a bed, but hey, he’s done his best over the years.)

But…

 _Evanstein._ This one makes his fucking _skin_ crawl. The sneer, being called a _movie star._ Eventually, Ash was let go due to lack of evidence, but Evanstein was that prick of a detective who interviewed him after…

(Skipper.)

Ash slams his laptop shut and leans back on the couch, clawing a hand through his hair.

_What the fuck were you doing, Copper?_

And then the next morning, it becomes a problem for him to walk on.

Ash is taking his kid out for ice-cream when he notices something; he figures with how long they’ve been here now—a few weeks at best—that keeping Jaden sequestered away in that mechanic workshop and apartment bar maybe a few trips to the grocery store (he changes his route each time; he’s dyed his hair a dirtier blond), there’re only so many places a kid can explore before they get restless.

Maybe he’s trying to forget that fucking list. _Evanstein._ Trying to find out who shot her Dad, maybe?

(Ash hasn’t gotten to the rest of the list yet.)

This time, Ash had scolded Jaden for climbing on that stupid rooftop wooden platform Eiji’s been trying to fix for Kaori. So, hence, the ice-cream. Half of it’s melted onto her fingers already, but Jaden’s trotting, happy as a clam, so he can’t complain. Not really.

“… _anyway,_ so I said, ‘but it _ain’t_ sayin’ science was _bad_ , just that new stuff is all—y’know, _complicated,_ ‘n we should be careful who’s the one like, doin’ the bad science!’ Didja know Ms. Karen got annoyed wi’ me for that? I liked Frankenstein!”

“I did. She was wrong,,” Ash says, and that woman’s lucky he’s states away from her now. Just hearing the extent of how much his kid was put down—for _reading beyond her grade level_ —makes him seethe.

Just reminds Ash of _him._ Putting a kid down in the name of being “better”. As a teenager, he would’ve defended Blanca, but he’s gotten older now, and…

(And maybe, maybe it’s okay not to be thankful just because the one adult in your life didn’t fuck you as a kid.)

He has to stop himself when _Jaden_ suddenly stops walking, ice-cream fully dripped onto the floor in a melty, sugary mess. He follows her trail, and notices her staring at a pair of shoes in the window—

Tap dancing shoes. _Huh._

“You interested in that?” He asks, one hand idly in his pocket, thumbing over the zipper of his wallet. “Didn’t you used to do tap dancing classes as a kid?”

Jaden’s head shoots up. “Y-You know?”

“Course I do.” Ash looks at the black and white shoes from behind the glass. “Your Mami sent videos to me. You were good.”

Jaden’s big eyes stare at him for a moment longer, before they drift back to the shoes. “Just… miss it. ‘n my friends. Uzomaka and Magnolia. Wonder if they remember me.”

Her little, pudgy fingers curl up on the glass, and Ash—

Jaden yelps when he scoops her up and lifts her up onto his hip. “Right. Probably one with pink and green on, right? Maybe with some stickers?”

“Huh?! Pops? What?”

Ash just gestures with a sharp inclination of his head. “We’ll get you some shoes, get you a book or two, and you can start learning again.” Then, playfully, he sticks his tongue out at her. “Duh.”

The bright sheen in her eyes, and the happy way she squeals and kicks her legs, that’s enough to convince him that all this shit has been worth the heartache. The little performance she puts on for Eiji, him and Kaori later, complete with stealing Eiji’s stupid sunhat as a tophat to take off as she bows?

Yeah. This world’s alright.

 _Whatever you were doing,_ he thinks, _I won’t let Jaden bear the brunt of it, Copper._

This carries on a few days later, too.

_Tap-tap-tap, click-click-click._

It’s a mantra that makes Ash _smile._ “You ain’t tired of that yet, are ‘ya?”

Jaden’s happily strolling along the sidewalk, clicking her heels against it with a hum in the drum and a skip in her step. Ever since Ash purchased those tap-shoes for her, she’s insisted on wearing them _everywhere_ , even to their little weekly ventures out to find new ice-cream places.

“Nope! Never will be!” She says, quite jovial, and Ash can’t bring it in him to argue. “Gonna _tap_ ‘til they’re all worn, these vagabond shoes!”

“Frank Sinatra?”

She shoots him a grin—that little gap in her teeth has filled in now. “Mami liked it. ‘n I miss home.”

Ash feels his heart twist in his chest. _I’ll get you back there one day. When the danger’s dead._ “My brother had an entire mixtape of his songs—well, he wrote to me about it.”

“When he was in the war?”

Ash rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah. Apparently, he was uh… sweet on a guy he met there. Used to sing a bunch of classics.”

Jaden stops clicking and puts a hand on his arm. “He’s with Mami, Pops. They’re angels, remember?”

“Yeah,” and that concludes that. He once overheard Jaden telling Eiji, _Pops doesn’t like to talk about things that make him sad for long. That’s okay. He said that not everyone does, like Mami with Skip._ Made him cry, a little.

For now, he just squeezes his kid’s hand and—

“Pops? There’s a lady crying.”

Ash already noticed the woman before, obviously, nailing some poster to a wall, but Jaden picks up that she’s crying. What’s new this time is the fact she’s _surrounded_ by at _least_ seven cats, all tails stretched and curled. She’s _short—_ shorter than Eiji’s sister—with a pink hijab decked out in flowers. And she’s opened the floodgates for some reason.

“Um…” As they approach, Ash takes a closer look at the poster and—

Oh, fucking hell. It’s a _missing cat’s poster._

“Huh?” The woman peers around, and wipes underneath an eye. “Oh… oh! Can I help you?” She sniffs, her eyes big and bright. “I’m sorry, I’m a bit of a mess, I’ve lost my Ringo.”

Ash glances at the ground, then back up at the woman. “I can’t imagine where he’s gotten to.”

 _“Pops!”_ Jaden scolds. _“Be nice!”_

He signals for her to wait for a moment, and he feels a small., impish grin quirk his lips. “What’s he like? Your Ringo.”

“Oh, my Ringo is just the _sweetest boy!_ From the moment he waltzed into my life when I first moved here with my Omar, I knew he was the missing part of our family! He is a beautiful mixed breed, we believe some sot of ginger tom, but he has the shiniest hazel eyes that go all squinty when he lays on his back and lets me give him tummy scratches! It took _so long_ in order to be able to get him to trust us—we figured out his favourite food was sardines mixed with tiny little occasional treats of diced strawberries! An odd one, my Ringo, but so sweet and quiet, even as he sits on my face and judges my husband for choosing trade school instead of college. I never knew he was so opinionated. Though you learn to pick up their personalities quickly, oh my Ringo was so jealous when we introduced my lovely Konstantina to our family a year later! And whilst he has seen the merits of leadership since we brought in Bean, Starr, Fraggle, Irikah, and Elmo! But even still, my Ringo, he doesn’t like to share the spotlight for long! He thought himself so scathed when I introduced him to Kaori’s Buddy, he wouldn’t let me hold him for _an hour!_ Can you imagine that? My sweet boy, my beautiful boy, so offended he wouldn’t let me hold him! Oh, what will I do if he never comes home to me? Can’t you feel the heartbreak coming from the house already? And Omar! Ringo was his favourite, second only to the rest of our cats! Nobody would ever replace Ringo, my dear beautiful Ringo…”

“ _Pops, this lady talks a lot ‘bout cats.”_

Ash just grins. “Ssh. Don’t be rude.”

Jaden scowls at him.

The woman wipes another tear from her eye, forlorn and inconsolable. Ash looks at the poster. Looks down at the cat closest to the lady. Both of them have hazel eyes and ginger fur.

“Uh,” Ash leans down and picks up ‘Ringo’. “This him?”

The woman _gasps._ “Oh, _Ringo!”_ She immediately clasps the cat to her chest and coos over him like a baby. “You’re back!” She looks at Ash with big eyes. “How did you find him? I only just nailed the poster to the wall!”

“…Lucky guess?”

“I _have_ been blessed…” She plucks a flower and tucks it into the cat’s collar. “Oh, thank you so much!”

“ _Miri? Did someone find Ringo?”_ A man with glasses, darker skin, and a scruff of a goatee pokes his head out of the gate. “I told you he’d come right back the second you started crying! It’s only been twenty minutes, darling.”

“That’s enough time for our home to feel empty, Omar!” Miri(?) looks at Ash with a grateful smile. “Thank you for finding him! You’re the man staying with Kaori and her brother right now, aren’t you! She’s told me a bit about you.”

Jaden nods. “Mm. Me ‘n Pops were invited.”

“Well, we’re friends of Kaori!” Miri smiles, heading on inside. “So if you dears need anything, you’re friends of ours, too!”

Jaden and Ash are left by the half-put-up poster and just look at each other.

“…She seems nice?”

Maybe it shouldn’t come as too much of a surprise when Kaori lets on the fact that Miriyam Ali is working on her _mMster's_ in archaeology at the age of _twenty-two._

* * *

Kaori tries asking Eiji, once, why he’s put himself at such risk associating with Ash is people are apparently after him and his daughter. Why he would put himself in harm's way for people he’s known for less than a year. She understands a bit—Eiji loves recklessly, hard, and falls right in headfirst. He’s got the scar to prove it, saving her from drowning in the ocean a lifetime ago. But not to this degree.

“Ash _has_ taken precautions.” When Kaori raises an eyebrow, she gets him to explain further. “As far as I know, he’s been monitoring where my car was noticed, used cash, made us untraceable. He’s—smarter than I am, but he’s making sure nobody can trace his daughter, and subsequently, us.”

“But then… why?” Kaori folds her arms tight over her chest. “You already got hurt once, Eiji, I—if you—you almost _died_ last time, you were—”

“Hey,” and he puts a hand on her head, just like when she was little, and he was her big brother off to America on a shiny new internship opportunity. “I won’t get hurt like that again.”

Kaori peers up at him, and switches to Japanese. “You had better _not._ ”

“I trust Ash. If you get to know him, I think you will to.”

That thought carries with her, and Kaori’s writing up her inventory when her personal phone rings, and Kaori’s scribbling down the stock intake when she answers the call with a nonchalant, “yeah?”

Kaori almost drops the phone when she hears her mother’s voice over the other end of the line ask her, _“is Eiji with you?”_

 _You finally use his real name when you speak to me,_ Kaori thinks spitefully, but the weight of her mother’s voice makes her sit down on the floor, and suddenly she’s that kid near the shoe cupboard again. “Kaa-san?” She switches to Japanese, her voice quieter, crossing her legs and massaging her temples. “Why are you calling me? Is it not late where you are?”

“ _I am fine. Is Eiji with you?”_

The clipboard she’s holding has to go to the floor. Buddy’s come up to her now, resting his head on her knee, and she’s grateful for the warm weight. “Why would you ask me that, Kaa-san?”

_“Ibe was not answering at the office, and the girl that picked up refused to talk to me further about what happened. I know Eiji does not have many friends in Detroit, so I thought he might be with you.”_

Kaori grits her teeth. “I have told you before, Kaa-san, I will not _spy_ on him for you! I understand you’re concerned, but it is not—”

“ _I am his mother, Kao-chan! I…”_ She sighs through the phone, and that blows the static right into Kaori’s brain. _“You know I worry for him. I know I have made mistakes. I want to know he’s alright.”_

“Forcing him to talk to you before he is ready is not the answer, nor is pushing me to act as your agent to make him.” Kaori brows her head into her knees. “You need to stop it. Let Eiji contact _you_ first.”

 _“…Yes, I know.”_ A deep sigh, a sad sigh. _“I know. I… I’m sorry.”_

Kaori hangs up when the trail of conversation goes cold, without the courtesy of a goodbye—

A loose screw rolls to her feet after the sound of something being knocked against, making her look up from her tight ball, and Jaden’s looking sheepishly at her, partially hidden behind some of the new delivery boxes.

Jaden emerges from her hiding place rubbing her arm, as Kaori rests her elbow on her knee. “I-I wasn’t spyin’ on purpose.”

“Oh, no, it is okay even if you were. I understand wanting to know more.” Kaori pats the spot next to her, and Jaden plonks herself down, resting on her knees. “It is not as if you would understand me anyway—”

“Um.” Jaden’s face is all flushed, and Kaori tilts her head. “I-I could. Bit.”

“Really?”

“Uh—Eiji talks a whole lot wi’ me. ‘bout Japan.” Rubbing her arm, she sits down on her butt and kicks her legs out—she’s got a pair of bright green galoshes with a yellow trim, and that obnoxious _Bird._ “I picked it up.”

“In six _months?_ Fucking—I mean, _wow,_ you are smart! _”_ Jeez, the wonders of children _._ It took her _years_ to learn English! And her father was a _translator,_ of all things! 

“…Swear jar.”

“Pardon?”

“Uh—nothin’. Don’t got it anymore.”

_Hm._

Jaden scuffs her galoshes against the stone floor. “Was that your Mami? Kasan, that means Mami. Right?”

 _Honestly, Eiji, what have you been teaching this girl?_ Kaori chuckles to herself and gently corrects Jaden. “Close. _Kaa-san._ Emphasis on the _‘ah’_ sound, like there is a tiny little beat. You were very close, though!”

Jaden scrunches up her nose. “Ka—a—san. _Kaaaaa-san._ ” She huffs. “Japanese is _weird._ ”

“You will get there.”

“Mm.” Jaden brings up her knees again. “Your Mami, she made you sad?”

It perhaps isn’t surprising that this girl is surprisingly astute, or that she seeks to comfort those around her, to seek out information. Most little kids are smarter than people realise, and yet demand too much out of their minds so early. Ash, at least, tempers his own expectations with genuine patience. Eiji seems to be a calming influence, too.

Maybe she jumped the gun far too early in judging Ash.

“It is… a very long story. But she did not upset me as much as she… frustrates me. Good people can make horrible mistakes, and then be far too eager to fix them.”

“Oh. Mami always told me it was good t’own up to mistakes. Said she didn’t, ‘n she didn’t wanna see me do the same things she did.”

Now—now _this_ is a golden opportunity. At length, the topic of Jaden’s mother hasn’t been broached. Certainly not by Ash, and Eiji has skirted around the issue, saying it wasn’t his place. But if Jaden and Ash’s presence in her life is going to be permanent due to Eiji, the least she can do is test to see if this child can trust her. If she cannot, then that is something to improve on.

Outside, the rain’s starting to clear up. There’s a tiny sparrow preening its feathers in the small water basin that Miriyam put out in Kaori’s small yard years ago, and the claw marks on the fences suggest the stray foxes have been nosing around for food again. They never come out during a storm.

“Very smart,” Kaori says with a smile, unfurling from her tiny ball and resting her chin on her hand, her elbow on her knee. “She loved you a lot, huh?”

“Course she did, _duh._ ” Jaden scoffs, folding her arms and jerking her head away. “She’s my _Mami._ She fussed ‘n loved me ‘n was the absolute _bestest._ ”

That makes a smile quirk at Kaori’s mouth. “I sadly did not get to meet her. What else was she like?”

Jaden… stills. Looks down at her thumbs. Chews her lip.

Kaori waits, that smile still on her face.

There is silence, aside from the sparrows, the hum of Miami cars humming on the horizon. Jaden picks at a hangnail. Picks at another, kicks a stray piece of chipped brick laying on the floor.

Then, finally, Jaden speaks, saying, “brave. Only ever saw her scared once.”

“Oh?”

Jaden looks down, and it strikes her, how sad those big, green eyes are. “Yeah. When the monsters came the second time.”

 _Monsters?_ “The monsters scared her?”

Jaden shakes her head. “No. Didn’t scare her. Barely nothin’ did. She was just… scared of what they coulda done to _me._ Just like Pops worries.” Jaden frowns, hides her face. “Don’t want those monsters takin’ Pops, too. But he thinks he is one.”

Kaori opens her mouth, but Jaden beats her too it. “Eiji ‘n Ash always think I’m sleepin’. Pops is scared. But if I tell ‘im, he’ll… he’ll just do that thing adults do. Pat my head. Tell me it’s all okay. Don’t want it to be pretend.” She sniffs. “Want him to be happy. Wanna be enough.”

See, Kaori knows Eiji doesn’t give up easily, he loves recklessly, 100%. These two people clearly mean a lot to him. So, she scoots on over and puts an arm around her. Jaden tenses… and then sniffs, burying her head into Kaori’s arm and bites her lip.

Kaori’s heart aches. This child might be someone special to her, someday.

 _I know I am not your mother,_ Kaori thinks to herself, patting Jaden’s curly hair. _But if you want, you can pretend, for a moment, that I am lending my arms to her, and this is her, protecting you._

* * *

“Hey, you’re falling asleep again.”

 _Yeah, and your soft-as-fuck voice isn’t helping with that,_ Ash thinks to himself, blinking awake and rubbing his eyes. Eiji’s got a mug of coffee waiting for him—and it’s sweet, too!—like the sweetheart he is. Honestly, Ash doesn’t deserve him. “Thanks.”

Eiji takes a seat on the couch next to him, face adorably squinty as he puts his glasses on. “You’re working late again.”

“You’ve noticed?”

Eiji smiles, resting his chin on his hand. “Impossible not to.” He gestures to the laptop with a finger. “Is everything alright? Working on something again?”

Ash, see, he hesitates here. Because it would be so _easy_ to just brush it off as nothing. Eiji, the good person that he is, wouldn’t push Ash to tell him anything, and Ash has let him see more than most. He’s mentioned to Eiji he’s a gang leader, that he’s done sex work, and Eiji _still_ sticks around.

Sure, he’s convinced his sister wouldn’t be so keen on him more so if she knew what company her brother was keeping, but Eiji’s an anomaly wrapped up in cute sweater vests.

It used to scare him, how open he wanted to be with Eiji. Now it’s normal. And he’s not sure what to do with this, except seeking it out more.

“It’s… research.”

Eiji brings one leg up and hugs it, and Ash’s heart _squeezes._ “Yeah?”

 _He’s picked up saying ‘yeah’ as a question from me._ God, his heart isn’t going to survive Okumura Eiji. Someone save him. “Yeah. These are—files. Jaden’s mom left them for me to find. Sewed a USB into her backpack.”

Eiji’s back goes ramrod straight. “So, she _wasn’t_ just expecting trouble? She was looking into something?”

“Looks like it.”

Eiji crams up closer to him, and Ash—without even thinking—just wraps an arm around him. Eiji’s peering at the screen, brows furrowed. “Evanstein, Holstock, Green…” Eiji glances at him. “Last names? Is there a connection between them all?”

“Evanstein’s the name of a shitty cop back in New York, and Copper’s father—” Ash peers at the door, lowers his voice. “Shot by a corrupt officer back when she was Jaden’s age. My guess was maybe she’s trying to track the bastard down, but I looked the case up—the officer was killed in action a year later. Copper isn’t the vengeful type.”

There’s a shadow of something on Eiji’s face, like he’s trying to work out a puzzle, but he shakes it off. Ash thinks no more on it, and he’s swept into the gentle lull of Eiji’s voice anyway. “You don’t know the other names? Though Holstock is familiar to me.”

Ash raises a brow. “It _is?_ ”

Eiji scratches his head. “Not me, but a coworker of mine was writing a story. I think he mentioned a _Holstock_ in passing. Some decorated military type.”

“That’s a bit of a reach, Eiji.”

“It was linked to a story Ibe-san was writing in New York years ago. It resurfaced recently. I can get him to email me copies.”

 _That_ draws his attention. “… _Huh._ ” Eiji did mention Ibe used to specialise in writing stories about foreign crime. “You’re the journalist. I’ll trust your lead on this.”

Eiji nudges him with a grin. “I thought you didn’t trust journalists.”

“Not _all_ of them. Besides, you’re too much of an honest prick to be untrustworthy.”

* * *

Kaori’s go-to beer is a Strongbow Darkfruit, Miriyam’s helped herself to a bottle of Moussy, and like they’re freshmen in college again, they’re sitting on the curb in the peak of twilight.

“Miri? I have decided that life,” Kaori says, voice slurred, and with the wisdom of a drunken man realising he can read, “is _shit._ ”

Miriyam just pats Kaori’s shoulder sympathetically. “First impressions aren’t always accurate, dear. I am sure Ash understood you were worried for your brother. There’s still time to change that.”

“I did not realise—” She sighs, hiding her face in Miriyam’s shoulder. “Why do I _do_ this? I was even cold to _you_ when I met you. Have I truly not changed in three years?” A sniffle follows. “I do not want to keep doing this. Assuming the worst in people. I am so _tired,_ Miri.”

There’s a stretch of road that separates their houses. At this time of night, so dead and still, everything’s hushed. Kaori can see a fox and her cubs picking apart the trash; earlier today a sparrow bathed in her small bird fountain. Sometimes Miri’s cats will hop up on the wall hoping for scraps. Maybe she’s destined to get along better with animals than people.

A fron tpage newspaper page skirts on down the road, buffeted by the wind; it’s today’s issue, had some Colonel guy decorated with some badge she doesn’t give a shit about. Really, what kind of name is _Eustace_ anyway? Same with Green, Holstock, Fox, and whatever other names are on the big news lately. It all blurs together in one static, alcoholic haze anyway.

“You’re trying, Rik,” Miriyam soothes, the sweetheart that she is. Her voice drowns out that static. “That is more than most.”

“It was not enough for Akira. I did not want to go back to Japan. Did not want to be—be—a corporate drone. Little worker bee. I am not my dead Grandfather. Nope.” Kaori _groans,_ flopping to rest her face in Miriyam’s lap. “Why are you _straight?_ I would marry you in an instant.”

“Omar may disagree with your intentions there, darling.” But Miriyam’s laughing, and that’s the best part. Miri’s her best friend. She’d take on the world for her, Omar too.

“I could take him.” Kaori flexes her arms—she’s proud of her biceps. She can lift things. “I could.”

“But you wouldn’t!”

There’s a beat. “I would not.” Then she _groans._ “Stupid earthly attachments.”

Kaori rolls onto her back, head still resting on Miriyam’s lap. Miri used to this, too, when they roomed together in college—that was three, almost four years ago now, during the worst of her nightmares. Miri married when she turned eighteen, and yet somehow Omar and Miri are still so strongly in love. Akira and Kaori were supposed to be strong too, but Akira yearned for home, and Kaori loved her life here too much.

There’s a picture of all four of them at pride together still pinned on her wall. Kaori draped in a bi flag, Omar in a pan one, Akira in a trans one. Miri’s had a dumb shirt that said, _“my husband likes men too, but my taste in them is better!”_

God. When did they think they were invincible?

“Hey, you’re getting lost in your thoughts again, dear.” Miriyam pokes her cheek, knocking the inside of her mouth against her teeth. “Are you alright? It might help if you talk to Eiji about all of this.”

“Maybe,” she concedes. Her mind is a mess when she’s tipsy. Kaori sits up, rubs the graven away from her skin. “I miss making sense. And love. But love is hard for me.” She pauses. “Are you sure you are heterosexual?”

“ _Barbie_ heterosexual, I’m afraid,” she grins, arms around Kaori’s shoulder, and kisses her cheek. “But I will always love you.”

Dumbass. She got that from a movie Kaori made her watch last year.

Miiryam bids her goodbye later after seeing her to her door, and Kaori takes a second to pause at the little claw marks in the fence left behind by that mother fox. She’s taking her shoes off when a conversation echoes and the phantom thirteen-year-old girl listening in on her parents’ arguments puppeteers her body.

 _“…Uzomaka had a stepdaddy._ ” Jaden says, voice all sleepy in the small room next to the door.

She hears Ash laugh, low and hoarse. Must be tired, too. _“Yeah?”_

_“And Carlilse, he had a stepmami. Imogene even had two daddy’s and two mami’s.”_

Kaori hears Ash put something down—maybe a book, by the sound of something soft closing. _“What’s your point?”_

 _“Well,”_ Jaden mumbles. _“When am I gettin’ one? ‘s gonna be Eiji, right?_ ”

Kaori stills, eyes wide as she hesitates near her own door handle. Looks toward that door. Eiji’s sound asleep on the sofa bed—it takes a lot to rouse him—unaware of the centers of his world talking about this.

Ash sputters. _“We—we aren’t talking about this!”_

Jaden _claps._ “ _Chop chop, Pops. He’s a real catch.”_

_“Del told you that, didn’t she? Quit smilin’ like that, you brat! Nothing’s—jeez, quit smiling!”_

Jaden’s sleepy little giggle marks the end of Kaori’s eavesdropping, and she gently closes the door to her bedroom, still in her clothes, and flops onto her bed. She rolls onto her side, clings to her pillow, and curls up into a ball. Alcohol’s made her brain all hazy, but one thought emerges from the mist, and a small smile paints over her mouth as she closes her eyes. 

* * *

It’s dusk now, in Miami—the sun is all tucked away underneath that velvet sky, and the air’s got a little chill to it. Ash sits up on the roof platform Kaori’s been working on, legs dangling off until his toes barely touch the rooftiles; he can hear Miriyam and Omar across the street singing something as they cook, can hear the street cats near a local colony fighting over territory.

Ash hates it here. The few people he knows here, he likes, but Ash finds himself disliking the heat and the prickling sensations he gets whenever he so much as walks around. 

God, he misses New York. Misses the streets, the food, the melting pot of a country that glistened; urbanised magic, graffiti mantras telling you the old stories of New York subways much like those old fantasy tapestries telling ornate details. He even misses Detroit, in spades.

“So, _this_ is where you have been hiding away.”

Ash looks over his shoulder—Eiji has poked his head up from the window and hauls himself to join Ash on the platform. He stumbles a bit when he puts weight on that bad ankle of his, and Ash hears his soda can drop to the concrete below as he lets Eiji grab onto him, pulling him up to sit beside him.

“You okay?”

Eiji circles his ankle and laughs, sheepishly. “No worse for wear?”

 _He’s picked that saying up from me._ Ash ignores the little fluttering in his stomach. “Don’t mean it don’t hurt.”

“My PT would be shaking your hand right now.” Eiji leans back on his hands. “She _hated_ how I underplayed my ankle’s pain. Always thought me so stubborn.”

“You kinda are.”

“ _Ass._ You’re supposed to be my friend and defend me.”

“Aren’t friends supposed to call you out on your bullshit?”

Eiji nudges Ash’s side, but he says nothing more to that thought than a simple laugh.

Ash watches him, for a moment.

Eiji’s got his head craned up toward the sky, like he’s got a natural inclination to look that way. His eyes are closed, his posture the epitome of relaxation; and yet there’s always this tenseness to his brows, even as relaxed as he seems. Like he’s just one more step away from hitting the pavement to becoming an adrenaline junkie. 

Ash has always wanted to ask him things. The scar on his head, his athletic past. About his family, mother, and father. What Japan is like—Izumo, he said he’s from Izumo. Ash has read up on it, but he wants to know it from _Eiji._

Ash has never been so _curious_ about someone before.

(It terrifies him.)

“You never said it was your birthday at the start of this month.”

Eiji’s eyes go wide. “Oh.” He looks at Ash, embarrassment colouring his cheek. “I must’ve forgot. Kaori told you?”

“I noticed it marked on the calendar.”

“Ah.” Eiji huddles up in a little ball.

“Why didn’t you say anything before?” Ash sees the way the can that’s fallen down below has been swallowed up by weeds in the pavement, cola reflecting the stars above. “I could’ve—done something with you.”

“I…” Eiji _sighs_. There’s that weight to him again, the shadow that hangs over his eyes. “I haven’t had a good reason to celebrate it in a while.”

“How come?”

Eiji purses his lips, fingers twisted in the fabric of his jeans. Ash has this bizarre urge to hold Eiji right now—he refrains, obviously, but… he doesn’t stamp the thought out immediately.

“You don’t have to tell me—”

“No, no, it’s okay,” Eiji cuts Ash off before he can swerve the conversation away with those little qualifiers. “It’s just—with everything we’ve faced lately, it seems… small.”

“Doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.”

Eiji glares at him. “Don’t bring up that bullshit again, Ash, I swear to—”

“Didn’t you even agree to let me help you out?” Ash leans _fully_ against Eiji, with protests coming from the latter. “Eiji, I’m _wounded,_ aren’t we _equals_ in this friendship of ours?”

“You— _oof,_ quit _leaning_ on me _!—_ you’re an ass sometimes!”

“You’ve noticed? Eiji, I’m flattered.”

“ _Ash!”_

They laugh into the pleasant dusky air and Ash throws his arm around Eiji’s shoulders and tugs him closer. See, Eiji’s got this type of laugh—a bright, brilliant laugh that devolves into snickers—that, somehow, _somehow_ makes all the hairs on Ash’s arm stand at attention, makes his heart squeeze inside of his chest. 

Laughter always ends eventually. Ash can’t remember a time where he was _sad_ the laughter ended.

(Usually, it’s cold, and at his expense. He’s never been so happy to share it with someone before.)

“Feel better?”

Eiji’s eyes do this _thing_ where they sparkle as he nods. “Mm, yeah. Thanks.”

The music from Omar and Miriyam’s place quells in the next quarter hour, the lights flicker off until the only one that remains is the one that flits on the porch whenever a straggler strays too near. A tiny pebble skims on the rooftiles and into the puddle of cola on the ground, making tiny shadows as it hurries into the dark.

Night’s encroaching on the Miami coast faster and faster. Ash isn’t sure how to feel about that.

“Do you remember when I—told you that my Kaa-san called? When I asked her not to?”

 _Oh._ Family baggage. God, his heart aches for Eiji already. “Yeah?” He—his arm is still around Eiji’s shoulders, and the way Eiji looks so distant, parting now wouldn’t be a sweet sorrow. Just _cruel._ “This has something to do with your birthday?”

Eiji ducks his head and laughs. “Not really. No big traumatic event. She just—she just used to make it so _special._ Would always make sure she knew exactly what I wanted, let me invite whoever I wanted. She’d work overtime at the local clinic just to afford it when Tou-san got sicker.”

Ash stays silent and—his cheeks get _hot_ when Eiji leans his head on his shoulder.

Well. That’s new.

“She…” Eiji trails off.

“Yeah?”

“My mother used to be so good, and then she _wasn’t_.” Eiji closes his eyes, bites his lip, and _sighs_. He nuzzles his face against Ash’s shoulder, making all the little hairs on Ash’s arm stand right up at attention. “It wasn’t just one big thing, but there were a lot of small things that built up over time, like, she never liked that I was an athlete, thought I ruined my future by being so public about being transgender, told me not to be so argumentative with her efforts to call me the right name because she was _trying,_ but for her it was like she was mourning her dead child—”

Ash swears under his breath at that, and that makes Eiji jolt. For a moment, Ash swears there are _stars_ in Eiji’s eyes.

Then, Eiji just shrugs, and those stars burn up. “My father passed away… not too long ago, Kaori was always so busy with setting up the shop or getting used to her new condition, and I’d always seen my birthday as a family thing so… it was just easier to treat it as a normal day.”

There’re lilacs in the hanging baskets underway, and they sway in the night breeze. The perfume of their scent massages the air, and for some, it’s like they’re waving goodbye to the day. Dusk has all but faded out into night. The lights in the city are only to guide the bold and reckless.

“So, should I not have got you this, then?”

Eiji’s head snaps up. “Huh?”

Ash procures a little box from his jacket and slides it over to Eiji. With a deft hand, Eiji pulls the ribbon on it and opens the box up, and Ash tries to ignore his hammering heart as he anticipates Eiji’s reaction—

“Wait, _what?_ ” Eiji’s bright eyes _stare_ at him, mouth hung agape. “How—how did you know I liked green tea mochi?”

Eiji delicately plucks out a small, rounded green dessert. His shock has Ash’s cheeks heat, and Ash shrugs as he looks away. “Your sister had some cookbooks. I had some free time while you were at work. It’s not a deal.”

“You _made…_ green tea daifuku? From scratch? For _me?_ ”

Ash raises an eyebrow. “Is that so hard to believe? I’m not _bad_ at cooking.”

“No, I…”

Eiji’s mind is something Ash can’t quite figure out. Like one of those rubix cubes—there’s a pattern, a rhythm to get all the colours to line up, but that pattern doesn’t result in anything that makes _sense._ It’s just a cube with a puzzle with no finishing victory beyond an illusion that you’ve figured it out.

But maybe that’s the kind of puzzle Ash just finds he enjoys the most.

There’s no glorious ending, just finding meaning in how you figure it out, and how the _figuring out_ is the lesson, is the golden glorious hour you never see, because you’re _living_ it.

And then he’s snapped out of his reverie.

Eiji kisses his cheek.

Ash’s hand traps the ghost of that feeling, presses it into his skin with trembling finger. His eyes widen, and his throat feels strangely dry. “Wh…” His voice squeaks— _actually_ squeaks, what the actual _fuck—_ and he just…

_What?_

“Thanks,” Eiji mumbles, and his feet dangle off the edge of the wooden platform.

“No… no problem,” Ash manages, just about.

That smile on Eiji’s face stretches from ear-to-ear, he’s beautiful. By some miracle, Ash is catching the light of that smile, reflecting it on his own face until they’re both golden, casting shadows that meet and become one.

(He likes the sound of…)

Ash stops bracketing his thoughts. _I like the sound of that._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- the nori nori crocs were not my idea. that goes to @ADreamingSongbird (rimi u galaxy brained)  
> \- the strongbow darkfruits is a beer not available in the us. my friend used to have a girlfriend from utah who came to the uk specifically to indulge in that beer. i imagine kaori is the same way.  
> \- miri has a lot of cats and omar adores his wife. i love them so much. miri is a genius and a total fucking sunshine airhead.


End file.
